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m-jelly · 2 years

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Vicar Levi Headcanons

@kenkopanda-art

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Due to a demand for it, I am reposting this headcanon list. I have removed some parts that might be seen as offensive to some. Most has not been changed.

This is just a fun idea I threw around with my friends @ladycheesington and @skittlelover69 I want to thank them big time for helping throw the ideas around and annoying them a little on discord with this.

This has different sections to it of how Levi is as a vicar, things he does, how you meet and extra things.

WARNING 18+ MATERIAL IN THE LAST SECTION. THERE WILL BE A BANNER TO WARN YOU. IF YOU DON'T LIKE 18+, SKIP IT.

Please also note that no offence is intended with this post. I am fully trained in teaching religion to others with a degree and more.

Please enjoy <3

Community:

· He'd choose a nice country town, or a close community with not many people so he can build up connections.

· He'd always be available for the town he's in. He'd have his doors open and be at his church often to be there for the people.

· He might look grumpy, but he likes sitting with people and listening to their troubles. He would give them advice and comfort if they need it.

· He'd have a Sunday school with the kids where he'd play with them and give them fun lessons on how to be good people, kind to others and spread love.

· He'd start a little group for the kids where they'd sing together with a music teacher. He would also let them decorate a room and make things to sell for charity.

· He would help the kids put on the nativity play, but slowly go mad each year. The kids might be cute to him, but their parents are the nightmares.

· Town festivals he'd take part in. He'd play a role for people, help raise money and have a bit of fun with everyone.

· He'd do house visits to elderly people who can't make it to church, to the sick and to people who are scared of something in their house.

· He'd keep the youths in check. They'd all like him and respect him because he's understanding and tough.

Sermons:

· He would talk about life lessons a lot. He would never be doom and gloom. He'd tell people about how to learn from their mistakes and be more of a guiding people to try and be better.

· He would never tell scary stories because he wants to be family-friendly for the kids to come in and see him as a father figure. He wants to make a safe place for them.

· Levi wouldn't tell the stories from the bible word for word, he'd put fun spins on them.

· He wouldn't be a believer in miracles and would encourage others not to either and trust in doctors and professionals because prayer won't heal anyone.

· They would not be long. Levi likes to keep them short so people don't get bored and fall asleep. He wants to keep their attention.

· Interactive. A lot of the time he would stand behind a podium, he'd be down with the people and talking with them and getting people involved.

· He changes his sermons to fit things happening in the town, such as big events and news about families.

You:

· You'd be new in town and likely set up a nice shop that sells tea and cooking herbs. Levi would have met you by coming into your shop. You'd both talk a bit and you'd admire him in his vicar clothes of a black shirt and white collar. He'd invite you to a sermon.

· You'd go to the sermon in a very nice summer dress and admire Levi as he talks. Levi would get very distracted by you as you sit in the front pew.

· You'd visit Levi and lot and he'd visit you. You'd talk to him about a lot of problems and how you came to the town to get away from your past. Levi would give you a lot of support.

· You'd slip into the town and community easily. Your tea and herb place becomes THE place to go to so you can make your cooking and baking just that bit extra.

· When BBQs happen, people swarm your shop to get as many herbs and spices as possible from you. When there's a lunch event, all your tea will be bought out and your small collection of coffee.

· You help out as much as possible when it comes to the town and you'd help Levi at his church with the little kids.

Flirting:

· It'd start with little smiles and giggles from you both. It'd be clear you're both attracted to each other, but Levi would hold back a bit due to how busy he is with his job and he worries about being too distracted by his feelings for you.

· You'd lightly touch him and then give him lingering touches to let him know you like him a lot. You'd keep your hand on him often when you talk or stand near him.

· You'd wear sweet summer dresses, but they'd just stop above your knee. You'd bend over around Levi, cross your legs and let the wind take your dress a bit. Your aim is to flash your thighs to Levi and it would work well.

· Levi would joke with you and squeeze your waist or hip making you giggle. When he touches you, he'd trace patterns on your, move his thumb over your skin.

· Levi would lean closer and whisper in your ear and know it would make your heart race.

· He'd pick you up and make you laugh as he does. He'd carry things around for you too. He would just show off his strength to you to get your heart racing.

· You'd always volunteer together and work together. The more you can be together, the better. You'd work close together and Levi would not let anyone else work with you.

· You'd lick your lips when he's looking, lightly trace your lips, push your chest out to him, drag your dress up a little. You'd do everything to make it very clear you're interested.

· Levi would part his legs for you. Lean towards you. Place his hand on you. Put his arm around you when you're sitting side by side.

Dating:

· Because everyone in the town knows everyone, your first few dates would have to be behind closed doors and privately. Your first date would be a nature walk together away from the town so you can talk, flirt and hold hands without people watching.

· Dinners at home. Levi would cook you dinner first at his place and you would on future dates. You'd bounce back and forth between houses.

· People will probably find out about you two once your nerves about taking your relationship further have died down and you're comfortable.

· You'd do public dates by going out to dinner, to bars and to town events.

· You'd help out Levi as much as possible now that you're an item. You'd support him with church events and with talking to people because people would know you as the vicar's girl.

· You will always be invited to events because you are dating Levi. You two now come together, never alone.

· You'd be around Levi's house the most instead of him over yours. Levi has a lot of his books to help him make sermons at his, so you'd both be there often.

· Plenty of stargazing dates of you both sitting somewhere nice and just admiring the stars above. You'd be cuddled up nicely with warm cups of tea.

· Levi would help you out at your shop on days he's not needed in the church. He would move things around for you and set up new displays. He also gets the first try at all the new teas you get in.

Married:

· You'd be married to each other rather soon after dating, possibly a year of dating maybe sooner. Levi just wants to be with you so desperately and his religious teachings would teach him to love and hold onto that love and not fool around. So, once he imagines his future with you, he'd marry you.

· Your wedding would be a massive town event. Everyone would be involved in making it happen and it would be such a big country town celebration.

· You'd work less in your shop and get workers to do it more so you could help Levi out. You'll take on some of the responsibilities that he has now you're a vicar's wife.

· You'd both be very romantic with each other and shower the other with gifts. You'd always be together and do everything together, not because it's expected of you, but because you love each other and want to be together always.

· You'd host things together. You'd be the main hostess and Levi would help you out.

· You'd educate the kids of the town together and provide a safe place for them at church, as well as in your home.

· It would not take long before you and Levi would be expecting your first baby. It'd likely be after a year of marriage before you both find out.

· You'd both not stop at one child but have a few kids. The town would support you both and raise your kids with you. The community is so close that they'd be a part of your kids' lives.

· You'd both be councillors in marriage to others because you both click so well. Your marriage isn't perfect because your small fights would mainly be Levi spending a lot of time at his job, but you'd very quickly work out any problems.

Bedroom:

· Your first time together would be very sweet and passionate. A lot of bodies very close to each other with loving touches and bites. It'd be moving and sweet.

· When you both are sexually active, things would get a bit kinkier over time. Nothing too extreme, but fun and cheeky.

· Levi would happily spank you for being a naughty little sinner. He'd get you to confess sins and you'd get spanks for them.

· Levi might get you to say a prayer when he goes down on you, but if you slip up he'll pause and ask you to start again and only when you get it right without stumbling on words too much he'll let you orgasm.

· You'd get down on your knees and ask to worship his "altar."

· You'd do some things in his office at the church, such as you sitting on his desk with legs open so he can worship your "altar."

· You'd both be very sex-positive and be incredibly active in the bedroom and his office at work.

· You'd have light bondage from him tying you up to you tying him up.

· Even though you'd be a bit kinky together, your positions will still always be loving and close.

· Levi would be a body worshipper. He'd almost drown you in pleasure and love. He'd think of you and only you. He'd get pussy drunk very easily.

· You going down on Levi would almost break him with pleasure. You're incredible to him and to see you on your knees worshipping what he has to offer would almost give him a heart attack.

· Levi would often say to you that you'd be the death of him after any sexual activity together.

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queenshelby · 3 years

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Gypsy Bride (One Shot)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Virgin!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Mention of Self Harm, Arranged Marriage, SMUT, Loss of Virginity

Total Words: 8,083 (both parts below)

Parts:

· Part One – Husband and Wife

· Part Two – Consummating Finally

Notes: I will be writing another One Shot which will be called ‘Goodbye Marie’. This One Shot will follow on from this story but can also be read on its own.

Part One

It was 9am on a cold Saturday morning. You had been awake for several hours already and barely managed to get any sleep at all the night before.

It was your wedding day and you were nervous to say the least. This was a wedding you didn’t want, a marriage doomed from the beginning.

Your father had recently taken over the business of importing heroine into the United Kingdom from his brother who, due to unfortunate circumstances arranged by your father, was shot during police interference.

In your culture, it was customary to only form alliances with people you trust, mainly family. But, since you and your mother were both only children as a result of a curse impaled on your family decades ago, your family was much smaller than other gypsy families.

In cases like this, alliances were formed by expanding family through marriage.

You had no say in the matter and your father was determined to expand his business through such alliance.

So, today, you were to marry Thomas Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders.

You knew that Thomas Shelby was shipping heroine to the United States and had recently lost his supply from the Chinese. The deal your father was offering Thomas was lucrative and allowed the Shelby Family to reinstate most of their fortune which they had lost in the stock market crash earlier this year.

Your father, however, did not trust Thomas Shelby and insisted on a traditional bond between the families.

Thomas Shelby agreed and, since he was the only unmarried Shelby man of age, it was him, a man almost twice your age, who was going to be your husband.

You never met Thomas Shelby and you wondered what he was like.

You heard terrible things about him and you knew that he was both, a politician and a gangster. You knew that he was involved in drug trafficking, running brothels and killings. He was no better than your father who you despised.

You always wanted to turn a leaf on your life, get away from the illegal dealings and make an honest living. But, this dream of yours was now shattered. You were about to marry into the most notorious gangster family in the Small Heath and Birmingham area.

In the weeks leading up to your wedding, you considered ending it. This was the only way out. But then you met a man who was a priest. Every day you remembered his words. There was a purpose for you, you just may have not discovered it yet.

You never believed, but turned to God for advice after your encounter with the priest. You even began to volunteer at the local church community hall to help you keep your mind occupied.

After weeks of volunteering, you requested to be married to Thomas at the church. The priest was reluctant but agreed after you begged for long enough. Your request was granted.

And there you were, in the back rooms of the small church in Birmingham, preparing for your wedding.

As you stepped into your white wedding gown, tears were building up in your eyes. You were not ready for this, but you had to be strong.

You wiped your tears away with the white cotton tissue your mother had given you and pinned up your hair.

A maid was assigned to assist you, but you enjoyed to do your own hair and makeup.

Shortly after you sent your maid away and while you were applying your mascara, you heard a knock on the door.

You hoped that it was your mother, wishing to provide you with emotional support, but, to your surprise, it was a woman who you had never met.

She had dark brown hair and dark eyes. She was attractive and well dressed.

‘I am Polly Gray’ the woman said as she walked into your room.

‘I am Y/N’ you said nervously.

‘I figured’ she said with a laugh as she handed you her flask of whiskey.

‘Drink up Love, I think you need it, you are about to marry my nephew’ Polly said sheepishly as she stepped behind you and tied up your dress.

‘Thank you’ you said before taking a large sip from the flask.

‘You didn’t want your maid to help you with this?’ Polly asked surprised as she wiped away some of the smudged make up beneath your eyes which were still wet and teary.

‘No. I don’t like to appear weak in front of strangers’ you explained.

‘Showing weakness can sometimes be your strength Y/N’ Polly said before she asked you how old you were while she proceeded to help you with your make up.

‘I am 20’ you responded, your hands shaking.

’20?’ Polly said as she stopped what she was doing and sat down across from you.

‘Did you think I was older?’ you asked.

‘Your parents are older than me, so yes, Thomas and I did not expect you to be so young’ Polly said before she lid herself a cigarette.

‘Do you think that Thomas will be disappointed?’ you asked.

‘No Love. Let me tell you something about Thomas’ Polly said before taking a pause.

‘He has not shown any genuine interest in a woman since his late wife passed away. Whilst I disliked her, she was the only woman he ever loved. He didn’t choose you and he will probably not love you, but he will provide for you and ensure your safety. He expects loyalty in return, nothing else. So long as you are loyal, you do not need to worry about disappointing him nor do you need to be afraid of him’ Polly explained, causing you to feel some relief.

Despite the fact that you had never met this woman, she was able to provide you with the reassurance you needed.

‘Now, let’s hurry’ Polly said, standing up and finishing your make up.

‘Thank you, Ms Gray’ you said as she took your hand and smiled at you.

‘Please, call me Polly. After all, you will be family soon’ she said just before she disappeared to the hall.

Not long after Polly had left and you finished getting ready, your father arrived.

‘It’s time Y/N’ he said impatiently, not even bothering to compliment you.

You hooked into your father’s arm as he walked you towards the hall.

The Church was packed. You had many guests, mostly gypsies from different families.

Your heart sank into your stomach as you observed your future husband waiting for you at the altar.

He was wearing an elegant navy-blue suit which matched his deep blue eyes.

His hair looked immaculate and he had his hands crossed in front of him.

He was very attractive and you could barely believe that he was in his late thirties already.

Despite this, shivers ran down your back as you approached the altar. He showed no emotion at all. There was no smile on his face. In fact, there was no expression at all, just coldness.

As you took your place across from him, you observed him gazing over you for a moment, almost like he was assessing you. But his expressions didn’t change. There was no warmth.

You weren’t sure whether he liked what he saw or whether he was disappointed, possibly by the fact that you were much younger than he had expected or perhaps he preferred a different hair colour or larger breasts.

There was an awkward silence between you as you both starred at each other until, finally, the priest began to speak.

‘We are gathered here in the presence of God, family, and friends to unite Thomas Shelby and Y/N Y/LN in holy matrimony’ the priest went on to say before speaking a prayer, as per your request.

Then, it was time for the all-important question.

‘Do you Y/N Y/LN take Thomas Shelby to be your lawfully wedded husband?’ the priest asked.

‘I do’ you said nervously, starring at Tommy.

‘’And do you Thomas Shelby take Y/N Y/LN to be your lawfully wedded wife?’ the priest asked.

‘I do’ Tommy said, his hands still interlinked with each other.

‘Then, by the power vested in me by God, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride’ the priest said, but Tommy made no attempt to kiss you.

‘We might save that one for later, ey?’ Tommy said as he saw the nervousness in your face. You responded with nothing but a simple nod as you reached for his hand.

‘Are we done here?’ Tommy asked before he obliged and took your hand into his as you both stepped down from the altar and walked towards the exit of the Church.

Your families and guests were cheering as the Church bells began to ring.

You couldn’t help it but feel apprehensive and thought that, if the reception was going to be as awkward as the ceremony, this would be a long night.

Outside the church, you and your families posed for a picture before Tommy took you to his car.

There were no white horses and carriages as you had imagined on your wedding day. There was nothing romantic about this at all.

There was an awkward silence as you stepped inside his Silver Bentley. He started the car without saying a word.

You didn’t know what to say yourself and couldn’t even bare to look at him.

Just before you arrived at the reception venue, he looked over to you.

‘I am sorry you’ve been made to do this’ Tommy said, just as he stopped the car.

‘So am I’ you said as you pushed open the car door and walked inside. The weather was dreadful and you didn’t wait for Tommy.

The reception was barely a reception at all. There was nothing but business talk and your husband ignored you for the entire evening.

By that time, you were certain that he disliked you. He didn’t want this marriage any more than you did.

After several hours of easing your pain with champaign while you engaged into meaningless conversations with Arthur Shelby’s wife Linda, Tommy told you that it was time to go home.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like, your new home.

You were hoping for it to be big enough so that you didn’t have to see your husband very often and endure this awkwardness and silence between you.

The drive home was as silent as the drive to the reception venue. Tommy didn’t speak a word to you, again.

At least this gave you time to think about the task ahead.

Your mother had spoken to you about marriage and what it entails.

She had also spoken with you about consummation of your marriage, which was something you were nervous, almost fearful, about.

Whilst, in your opinion, Tommy was very attractive, you have never been with a man before and you wanted your first time to be with someone you loved not someone you just met.

You told your mother exactly that, but she explained to you how important it is to fulfill your wifely duties and keep your husband happy from the beginning and always thereafter.

The truth was that you were afraid of the pain it will entail. You knew it was going to be painful and it wasn’t as if you didn’t already have to endure enough pain on your wedding day. Your mother explained to you that you would get used to it, the pain will fade and, eventually, it becomes nothing more than a chore.

As you finally stepped out of the car and inside Tommy’s house, you were emotionally prepared for what was to come and were probably drunk enough too.

The house was larger than any other house you had ever seen. You couldn’t believe that Tommy was living in the house by himself.

Tommy took the time to personally show you the house and introduce you to the maids. That was probably the most he had spoken to you all day.

It felt somewhat surreal. This is where you were going live now, with your husband, a total stranger.

Tommy told you that you could use every room in the house as you pleased but that you were not allowed in his office or his bedroom.

‘Your bedroom? Will we not be sharing a bedroom?’ you asked, causing Tommy to chuckle.

‘No Y/N, we will not be sharing a bedroom’ Tommy said before showing you your bedroom. You were relieved to say the least.

‘You can redecorate it if you like’ Tommy said as he opened the door.

Your bedroom was large, with a study desk and your own bathroom attached to it.

It was well decorated and felt warm and welcoming.

‘Thank you’ you said turning around, causing Tommy to nod.

‘I have some work to do now. If you need anything, please call for one of the maids’ Tommy said as he excused himself.

‘Goodnight Thomas’ you said, receiving no response.

After Tommy left, you changed into your nightgown and lied down on your bed. But, there was no way that you could fall asleep just yet. You still felt uncomfortable and out of place.

After about thirty minutes, you decided to get up and make yourself a cup of tea. You weren’t used to be served by maids and enjoyed doing things for yourself.

As you wandered through the house towards the kitchen, you heard noises coming from one of the hallways.

Intrigued, you followed the hallway and observed that there was light shining from the reading room which was also where the noises came from.

You carefully approached the room, glancing in from the distance.

This when you saw Tommy, still wearing his suit while being intimate with the young blonde maid Marie to whom you were introduced earlier that evening.

Keeping quiet, you couldn’t help but stare at them.

Marie was being bent over the big oak study desk while Tommy was behind her, thrusting into her harshly and almost emotionless.

He held onto her hips tightly while she was moaning, digging her nails into the solid oak.

After five minutes of observation, you had enough and quietly walked to the kitchen where you boiled the kettle and made yourself a tea.

‘Mrs Shelby, I could have done this for you’ Francis said, startling you as you poured the hot water into the teapot.

‘That’s quite alright Francis. In fact, I enjoy being in the kitchen. Perhaps, if Thomas allows it, I could cook dinner one night?’ you said, waiting for some kind of approval.

‘That would be lovely Mrs Shelby’ Francis said before you excused yourself.

As you returned to your room you couldn’t help but think about Tommy and Marie. By no means did you blame him. But you also couldn’t help it but wonder why he didn’t take any desire in you. Did he rather want to sleep with his maid than his wife?

Was it that he disliked you or was it that he was trying to be kind, not making any advances towards you because you were forced into this marriage.

The next morning you woke at 7am after spending most of the night pondering about your future as Thomas Shelby’s wife.

After you got dressed, you walked downstairs and joined your husband for breakfast.

‘Good Morning’ you said as you sat down.

‘Good Morning Y/N’ Tommy said, glancing up from his newspaper for a moment to make eye contact with you.

‘Have you slept alright?’ he then asked.

‘Yes, thank you. The bed is very comfortable’ you said shyly.

‘That’s good’ Tommy said before continuing to read the paper.

This was all you spoke as you quietly ate your breakfast.

The next few weeks were just as quiet.

Tommy ignored you for the most part and continued to engage in sexual encounters with Marie. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother to hide it from you.

Sometimes they would do it in the reading room, sometimes in one of the guest rooms and occasionally even in the stables.

You couldn’t help it but ask Francis about her and Francis told you that she had only been employed by Tommy for the past eight weeks. She was French and her breakfast was terrible. Clearly, she had other talents which kept your husband happy.

Just as you were in the reading room yourself, looking for a particular book, Tommy approached you.

‘Do you play chess?’ he asked.

‘Do I play chess?’ you asked surprised, closing your book. He didn’t talk to you for weeks and this was the question he wanted asked you? You were in disbelieve.

‘Yes, do you play?’ Tommy asked again as he poured himself a glass of Whiskey.

‘Yes, I do, would you like a game?’ you asked.

‘Yes, I’ve been learning. It’s somewhat boring but also extremely satisfying’ Tommy said, making you laugh.

‘It’s strategic, that’s probably why you enjoy it’ you said while you brushed your hair out of your face.

‘Please’ Tommy said as he turned around the chessboard on the coffee table, indicating for you to make your first move and begin the game.

You made your move and noticed that Tommy’s eyes wandered over to you rather than the chessboard, causing you to blush.

You played for about twenty minutes and began to make conversation, which is when you realised that Tommy had been observing you and taken an interest in what you might like.

‘I am thinking about getting another race horse’ Tommy said. ‘Perhaps you could help me choose one’ he added.

‘Me? Choose a horse?’ you asked surprised.

‘Yes. I noticed that you have taken an interest in the horses and I would like you to accompany me to the upcoming auction’ Tommy said. ‘It would be in my best interest to attend this event with my wife’ he added to justify his request.

‘I would love to attend with you’ you said with a smile.

‘There will be other members of parliament attending the auction and there will be a function afterwards. You will need to buy yourself a dress. Elegant, but simple’ Tommy said as he handed you some money.

‘Alright’ you said before moving your queen. Tommy clearly hasn’t been paying attention to the game.

‘Checkmate’ you grinned.

‘Well well, you just beat me at chess’ Tommy said as Francis walked in to the room with some tea for you.

‘Your wife is a smart woman Mr Shelby’ Francis said, giving you a wink.

‘I’ve noticed. Now would you excuse me, I have some more work to do’ Tommy said, smiling at you for the very first time.

The next day you drove into town to buy yourself a dress. By that time you had already done your research on the horses available for auction and the one you had your eye on was called ‘Emerald’.

It won two races quite recently and was slightly more expensive than the budget Tommy had given you.

With that in mind, you considered it to be fitting to purchase an emerald green dress, elegant but yet simple, just as Tommy had requested.

Over the next week, leading up to the auction, Tommy and you played chess almost every day. He hated losing and was determined to eventually beat you.

Even before the auction, he demanded a game and you made sure that you were ready for him.

A gasp escaped Tommy as you entered the reading room wearing your emerald green dress.

‘Is that alright for the auction?’ you asked shyly, wanting to ensure that Tommy approves of the dress.

‘Just missing one small detail Mrs Shelby’ he said as he handed you a box covered with black satin.

You opened the box and, inside, there was a diamond necklace with matching earrings.

‘Thomas’ you said, being stunned by the pieces of jewellery.

‘You will need to fit in Y/N. After all, you are my wife’ Tommy said as you turned around and he placed the neckless onto your neck.

After you looked at yourself in the mirror, you and Tommy played a quick game of chess before making your way to the car and drive to the auction.

At the auction, Tommy introduced you to everyone as his wife but, as usual, he kept his gestures to a minimum. He held your hand once, maybe twice, for show.

You were well spoken and engaged with the other politicians’ wives. The topics that were spoken about were of no real interest to you, but you played along for Tommy’s sake.

Later, at the function, you mingled with the same women while Tommy engaged in pollical discussions with members of parliament and judges.

You couldn’t wait for the night to be over, you were bored beyond belief.

Finally, Tommy told you that it was time for you to leave. He had further business to attend to at the Garrison and you requested that he take you along.

He reluctantly agreed and, as you arrived, the Garrison was packed with drunk men.

You were glad to see Polly and Ada again as you arrived and engaged into conversations with them before their business meeting with Tommy.

But just as Tommy turned his back on you and gave some instructions to Arthur, you were approached by another patron.

‘Good Day Love’ he said, not receiving any reaction from you.

‘Woman, I am talking to you’ he said harshly after you tried hard to ignore him.

‘Sir, please leave me alone’ you said patiently as, all of a sudden, he grabbed your wrist harshly.

‘Love, I can pay well you know. So, whatever offer you have for tonight, I will double it. It is rare to find a whore as pretty and clean as you’ the man said.

‘Get your hand of me. I am not a whore’ you said as, all of a sudden, you heard Tommy approach.

‘Ay, this is my wife you are talking to’ Tommy said harshly, pointing his gun at the man.

‘Mr Shelby’ the man said with a scared voice.

‘Now apologise to her and then fuck off before I blow your head off’ Tommy said angrily.

‘My apologies Mrs Shelby, I didn’t know’ the man said with embarrassment, his pants wet before he made a run for the door.

‘Did he just piss himself?’ Arthur said with laughter as he gave Tommy a nudge.

‘Fucking hell…this is no place for woman like you Mrs Shelby’ Arthur laughed but you weren’t in the mood for jokes. The man had grabbed your wrist harshly and you were somewhat scared by his determination.

‘Are you alright?’ Tommy asked, his hands running over your upper arms.

‘I am fine Tommy. I am sure it was just a misunderstanding’ you smiled.

‘I don’t care. No one speaks to my wife like this’ he said.

‘Now let’s get you a drink, ey? What would you like?’ Tommy asked.

‘Whiskey please’ you responded.

‘Irish or Scotch?’ Tommy asked.

‘Irish’ you responded.

‘Well, we have something in common then’ Tommy said with a smile as he asked you to join him for the business meeting.

‘Perhaps we are yet to discover a lot about each other’ you said, causing Tommy to chuckle.

‘Most people do this before they get married’ Tommy said as you followed him.

You stayed at the Garrison for another hour before you made your back to the house.

The drive was much more pleasant than before and, even though you may never be lovers, you had now found things to speak about with each other.

‘Will you have another glass of whiskey with me?’ you asked Tommy as you arrived at the house and he handed Francis both of your coats.

‘I suppose why not’ Tommy said as he walked you to the living room.

Tommy poured each of you a glass of whiskey before sitting down on the lounge next to you.

‘I enjoyed today, thank you’ you said.

‘And I enjoyed your company. You did well with all of these arrogant bastards’ Tommy smirked, causing you both to laugh.

‘You don’t like politicians much do you?’ you asked.

‘No, I fucking hate them’ Tommy smirked, causing you to laugh again. After all, he was one of them.

You talked about politics and horses for quite some time until you changed the topic.

‘Tommy?’ you said all of the blue, before pausing.

‘Yes?’ he asked curiously.

‘It is none of my business but, do you love her?’ you asked.

‘Love who?’ Tommy responded.

‘Marie. I know you have been sleeping with her’ you said.

‘No, I do not love her. I do however enjoy her company, although not so much for making conversation’ Tommy said with a chuckle.

‘Do you enjoy my company?’ you asked shyly, looking down at your glass.

‘In a different way, I do’ Tommy said.

‘In a different way, but not in the way a husband enjoys the company of his wife’ you said.

‘Listen, Y/N, neither of us have asked for this marriage. It was your father who insisted and the business between me and your father is extremely lucrative as you know. If I would have known that you are…’ Tommy said, and before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him.

‘That I am so young?’ you asked before pausing, causing Tommy to sigh. ‘If you would have known, you would have forgone the deal?’ you added.

‘I would have asked your father to consider a more suitable match, a trusted man of mine closer to your age’ Tommy said.

‘Well, it is what it is Tommy. There is no turning back now’ you said, taking another sip of your Whisky, before standing up.

‘I think Marie is waiting for you’ you smirked before excusing yourself.

As you walked to your room, tears were running down your face. You couldn’t help it but, for some reason, you wanted Tommy to be a husband to you.

Were you falling in love with him, the man you were being forced to marry? Are you asking for the impossible? Being loved by a man like Thomas Shelby?

You were devastated by thoughts that he would rather be with his maid than with his wife and wondered why he didn’t see you the way you now wanted to be seen.

First fearful about being with him, you now wanted to be with him and you certainly didn’t want him to be with your maid.

As you went to bed that night, you remembered what your mother had told you about keeping your husband happy in order to achieve a fruitful marriage.

You also remembered that, when your mother and father were in disagreement about matters or your mother was worried about your father’s indiscretions, she would add a little spark to their marriage with a nice meal and paying her wifely duties.

With that in mind, you decided to take things further the following week after Tommy returns from his business trip.

Part Two

‘Good Evening Mr Shelby, how as your trip?’ Francis asked as Tommy arrived back home.

‘Fine, thank you’ Tommy said, handing Francis his coat while Marie grabbed Tommy’s bag.

‘Mrs Shelby prepared dinner sir’ Francis said.

‘She did?’ Tommy asked surprised.

‘Yes, sir. She is waiting for you in the dining room’ Francis said.

‘Do we have guests?’ Tommy asked, causing Francis to shake her head.

‘No sir, just you and Mrs Shelby and she said that you do not wish to disturbed’ Francis said, causing Tommy ponder before he excused Francis, allowing her to finish some of her chores.

‘Will I see you later Thomas?’ Marie asked, causing Tommy to nod before walking to the dining room.

As he entered the dining room, he saw you sitting at the table wearing a beautiful but yet revealing black satin dress and the diamonds he had bought for you to wear at the auction.

Your hair was open, long curls falling over your shoulder.

You were wearing dark eye shadow and red lipstick and your skin smelled like musk and flowers.

‘Good Evening Thomas’ you said with a smile.

‘Is this a special occasion?’ Tommy asked, causing you to shake your head.

‘No, I just thought I would cook something nice for my husband’ you smirked before calling Marie for some wine and telling her that she may serve dinner.

‘You know she will probably burn whatever you prepared’ Tommy said jokingly. He knew that you were very well aware that serving food and food preparation wasn’t one of her chores.

‘I am sure she’s got other qualities’ you said cheekily.

As you talked and ate together, you discovered that Tommy had a pretty bad week.

Amongst other things, he told you about a man called Mosley whom he had met in London two days ago and problems with one of the judges. After that, you moved on to discuss more pleasant matters.

‘Would you like a game of chess and a whiskey to end the day?’ you asked as hours had paused.

‘Alright’ Tommy said and it wasn’t until you got up from your chair and walked with him towards the reading room that he saw the entirety of your dress, which complimented your curves.

‘You look beautiful in this dress Y/N’ Tommy said, not sure what else to say in that moment.

‘We have been married for 6 weeks now and this is the first time you have complimented me’ you said with a smile.

‘I didn’t consider it to be appropriate’ Tommy said as he sat down next to you, handing you a glass of whiskey.

‘I am your wife Tommy’ you smiled. ‘Do you not find me attractive?’ you asked.

‘I do. But, considering the circumstances surrounding our marriage and your age, making any advance towards you would have interfered with my conscience ‘Tommy said.

‘And I am grateful for that Tommy. But, whilst I can be in a loveless marriage, I cannot be in a marriage without any emotion at all’ you said suggestively.

‘So, what do you suggest?’ Tommy asked.

‘I suggest that we consummate our marriage and give it the chance it deserves’ you said, causing Tommy to chuckle.

‘Consummate our marriage, ey?’ Tommy said. He was surprised by your proposal.

‘Yes, unless you rather fuck your maid than your wife’ you said sheepishly and with a smirk. It was clear to Tommy that you were being sarcastic and he began to like this mischievous side of you.

‘Well then Mrs Shelby, shall we go to my room or yours?’ Tommy smirked.

‘Mine’ you said determined as you stood up and offered him your hand.

As you and Tommy arrived at your bedroom, Tommy closed the door behind you while you crossed to the bed to turn on the bedside lamp.

The light was just enough to show him all that he needed to see and no more than you wished to reveal.

Tommy walked over towards you as you stood next to the bed.

Leaning in from behind you, he swept your hair over one of your shoulders and pressed a kiss against the back of your neck while one of his hands dragged the zipper of your dress down tooth by tooth.

Slipping his hands beneath the fine satin, Tommy pushed the dress downward and letting it fall to the ground.

Taking a step back, he admired you, studying every tiny detail of your entire body.

Watching you turn, Tommy reached out and a smile flitted across his lips when you slid your hand into his before stepping up flush against him.

‘You haven’t even kissed your wife yet’ you said shyly before leaning in and pressing your lips on Tommy’s lips.

His lips were soft and tasted like Whiskey. He was a good kisser and it wasn’t long until his tongue found its way into your mouth.

The kiss soon became urgent and heated while Tommy’s hands moved behind your back, unclipping your bra. It landed on the floor right next to your dress.

His hands were urgently exploring every part of you and you could feel his erection press against you.

As he ran his hands over your firm breasts and breathed deeply, it was clear to you now that he desired you.

‘Tommy?’ you said with a hasty voice as his hand wandered lower, wanting him to slow down. Your heart was pounding by that time and some apprehension had set in.

‘Yes’ Tommy said while he took off his shirt, letting it join your dress in holy matrimony.

‘I haven’t done this before’ you said with some embarrassment as you rested your hands on his bare chest while your eyes were exploring his tattoos.

‘You have never had sex before?’ Tommy asked with slight worry in his voice, causing you to bite your lip and shake your head.

‘Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Tommy asked, running his hand gently over your cheek.

‘Yes Tommy, I am sure. I want to be yours’ you said.

‘You are mine regardless Y/N’ Tommy said with a slight laugh as he caressed your face. In his mind, he had already claimed you. You were his wife.

‘Please Tommy, I want you’ you said with a smile.

‘Alright, I will take it slow then but you must tell me if I hurt you’ Tommy said concerned, causing you to nod. It’s been over 20 years since he had been anyone’s first and this was not something he expected having to encounter again.

Tommy’s touch became gentler almost immediately and you loved the softness of his fingertips on your skin.

His fingers were exploring every corner of your body, for now steering clear from your most intimate parts, while your tongues danced in sync with each other.

After some more passionate kisses, you let your eyes rove over the expanse of his chest and down the ridges in his torso, which was an area of his body you didn’t dare to look at until then.

You bit the corner of your lip shyly as you pushed the zipper of his pants down with a single fingertip, the fingers of your other hand relieving the button.

You almost let out a soft laugh when Tommy let out a sigh of relief as the pressure lightened considerably around his bulge which was now hidden only behind the thin fabric of his briefs.

Even through the fabric, he seemed huge and for a moment you doubted your decision but then you looked up at him and every ounce of niggling doubt was erased from your mind as his blue eyes gazed into yours.

Tommy stepped out of his shoes and let his trousers nose-dive to the ground as he stepped forward, guiding you back to the bed that stood center stage in the gigantic room.

Brushing his fingertips across your cheek, Tommy rubbed the curve of your side and laid you gently back on the bed.

‘I think I got lucky, having such a beautiful wife’ Tommy said as he lowered himself onto the bed and before exchanging another passionate kiss with you.

Tommy’s lips soon made their way from your mouth to your neck and then over to your breasts.

Every little kiss or touch made your heart gallop within your chest, your blood pounding through your veins, soaring through your body at speeds greater than that of light or sound, or so it felt.

Brushing your fingers through Tommy’s hair as he explored your body, you caressed his cheek and stared down at him, your hips rising subconsciously as Tommy teased the soft skin of your abdomen with tiny kisses and nibbles.

There was a fleeting moment of second guessing when Tommy’s fingertips edged beneath the lacey edge of your panties but as soon as he kissed the skin he revealed it was gone.

Your hips were again rising as Tommy removed the scrap of dark fabric from the apex of your thighs to reveal a silky smooth mound of flesh and the now engorged rosebud of your clit.

Hearing him gasp at the sight, you blushed but followed it with a moan as Tommy leaned down and kissed it once, the length of his tongue sweeping out to take a taste of your secret delicacy.

This was something you didn’t expect. What on earth was he doing?

As you were completely naked before him and he was so close to your most intimate parts, you felt more vulnerable than you had ever been in your entire life but you didn't regret it.

Everything that Tommy did to you in that moment made you jump out of your skin in the most wonderful ways possible.

After he gently ran his tongue over your slit a few times, Tommy told you to relax as he pulled gently at your leg and you slowly let them fall open.

You tried hard not to tense up and, even though you didn't know what he was planning on doing, what he did so far felt good so you were willing to give all of yourself to him.

‘That’s it’ Tommy said after you took a deep breath and relaxed your body.

Tommy took this moment to dip his tongue inside of you gently, causing a loud moan to escape you.

His tongue was skilled, moving in and of you slightly while his hands pressed your legs apart gently.

Tommy then moved his tongue over your clit, flicking it slightly and causing you to make a high pitch noise of some sort.

‘Tommy’ you moaned at the sensation. It was almost too intense.

You closed your eyes as waves of pleasure coursed through your body while Tommy kept pleasuring you with his tongue.

When Tommy's fingers finally brushed against your entrance to join his tongue, you gasped and jumped.

‘Tommy’ you moaned but were also slightly worried about what he might do with his fingers.

Tommy’s erection was throbbing from within his briefs but he knew very well that he would have to take it very slow. As much as he wanted to be inside of you right then and there, he was aware that there was some preparation to be done.

With trembling fingers Tommy gently spread your virgin lips open and let his finger brush against your clit while his tongue continued to run through your folds.

He heard her sharp intake of breath from you when he guided his finger inside of you carefully while his tongue played with your clit.

By that time, you were soaked and he could feel the juices coating his finger.

As he pushed his finger deeper inside of you, he could hear your soft cry of surprise and you arched your back up suddenly.

‘Just relax’ Tommy said as he could feel no resistance inside of you.

He pressed you gently back to the bed and dropped more kisses against your virgin lips before circling against your clit again.

You closed your eyes tight and held your body completely still.

‘Tommy, oh god’ you moaned as he moved his finger in and out of you slowly, over and over again.

You were tight around his finger and had no idea how he would possibly fit his cock inside of you.

It wasn’t long until you moved your hips upward, showing Tommy that you were enjoying what he was doing to you.

Tommy sucked hard at your clit, loving it with his tongue as he slid a second finger inside of you carefully and started sawing it in and out.

‘Tommy’ you cringed at the pressure, causing him to slow down again and holding his fingers steady until the pressure eased.

When he could feel you relax, he began moving his fingers in and out of you again and it wasn’t long until you felt a very unfamiliar tightening in your belly.

‘Tommy, oh my god, please don’t stop’ you begged as your breathing started coming out heavier.

Unlike you, Tommy knew that you were close to having an orgasm and he increased the pressure of his tongue around your clit while continuing to move his fingers in and out of you.

Still unsure about what was happening inside of you, you grabbed onto the sheets as, suddenly, a feeling of ecstasy rushed through you.

‘Tommy, fuck’ you screamed, not being able to control yourself while your orgasm washed over you.

Tommy couldn’t help but smile against your flesh as you coated his fingers in your juices.

After you had come down from your high, Tommy slowly pulled his fingers out of you and moved up the bed to kiss you passionately.

You could taste yourself on Tommy’s lips. It was strange, but you enjoyed it.

‘I don’t know what just happened. I hope the maids didn’t hear me’ you said totally embarrassed as your lips drifted apart.

‘If they didn’t then they are clearly deaf’ Tommy laughed.

‘Oh my god, how embarrassing’ you said. ‘I didn’t expect…’ you said, and before you could finish your sentence, Tommy interrupted you.

‘You didn’t expect it to feel that good?’ Tommy asked, causing you to shake your head.

‘Well, Mrs Shelby, I will make you feel good every day from now on’ Tommy grinned before kissing you again.

‘Is that a promise Mr Shelby?’ you asked in between more passionate kisses while your hand moved in between his legs and beneath his briefs.

‘It’s a promise’ Tommy said as he let out a small groan as you began to stroke his hard cock.

He was thicker than you had expected and your nervousness returned in an instant as he took off his briefs.

‘We can wait if you want’ Tommy said as you continued to stroke his hard cock with your hand.

‘No Tommy, I want to feel all of you’ you said with a gentle voice before Tommy ran his hands lovingly over your legs, pushing them apart all the way, much further than he did earlier.

You took in a deep breath as you gazed into Tommy’s blue eyes while he rested himself in between your legs.

He smiled and kissed you softly. You knew that, what was about to follow would hurt. Nonetheless, you wanted him inside of you so badly.

‘We will take it slow, alright?’ Tommy said with a reassuring voice.

You brought your arms up around Tommy’s neck and pulled his lips to yours, kissing him softly once again.

‘I trust you’ you said, looking deep into his eyes after your lips drifted apart.

With his look fixated on you, Tommy reached down between your legs and grasped his cock in his hand before rubbing his tip against your soaking entrance.

You moaned softly as you felt the head of his cock pressing against you. But, as soon as you could feel him push inside of you, you inhaled roughly.

‘Tommy’ you moaned as he slowly pressed forward with his hips.

You couldn’t help it but gasp as you felt him start to enter you.

You dug your hands into his shoulder and held onto him tightly as you felt yourself being stretched.

‘Fuck’ Tommy groaned lightly, trying to force himself to go slow. It took more willpower than he had expected not to simply plunge into you as you were incredibly tight around him.

Pushing into you slowly, inch by inch, he finally felt your barrier. He stopped and looked down at you.

You gave your husband the look of approval as you tightened the hold on his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Tommy leaned down, pressing his lips onto yours just before he nudged forward and slipped past that barrier.

As your fingernails dug into the flesh on his shoulders, Tommy swallowed your moan that was different from all the others you let loose earlier that night.

It was indeed painful and some small tears escaped your eyes as he filled you completely.

Tommy kissed away your tears before cradling you against him as he paused once more, giving you some time to adjust.

It was killing him to hold still but he wanted to wait until you were ready.

As you adjusted to him inside of you, the last sliver of pain disappeared and was overtaken by pleasure.

Tommy could feel you starting to relax and move beneath him as he continued to place small kisses on your neck.

He moaned as he felt your small movements and it tugged on his cock.

It wasn’t long until he began to move himself, small and gentle thrusts to start with.

Your thighs clenched and your toes flexed, your hips rising in vain to meet his again only to be pressed back into the bed when he sank back into you.

‘Oh god Tommy’ you moaned loudly. You could've screamed right then and there, from the highest point on the face of the earth, from the insane amount of pleasure you felt.

‘You are so god damn beautiful’ Tommy said as he continued to thrust into, picking up in speed and force.

Your nipples grazed his chest every time your hips collided as your movements became syntonised with his.

Every movement he made, no matter how small, brought a new sound out of you, your voice cresting and dropping to new highs and lows that you never even thought you would reach let alone soar passed regularly.

His thrusts soon became more urgent and you pressed into him firmly, wanting him to burry himself into you over and over again.

By that time, you had lost count of how many times the pressure had built within the cradle of your hips only to explode like a weapon of mass destruction, bringing copious amounts of toe-curling, eye-clenching amounts of pleasure so great that it seemed impossible that the next surge would ever top its predecessor.

By the sounds of your moans, Tommy knew that you were getting close to another orgasm and he was getting so close himself.

He held tight to your hips as he drove hard and fast in and out of you, making you whimper with need.

‘Oh my god Tommy, yes’ you moaned and begged slamming back against him the best you could.

Your body was wound so tight you felt like your body was going to come apart any second.

Your legs began to shiver and your walls were tightening around him as your orgasm came at you like a freight train.

‘Tommy’ you screamed at the top of your lungs, sending him over the edge also.

You came in sync with each other and, with the next thrust, he filled you with his warm cum and coated your insides, flooding you just as you did the exact same thing to him.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned as his thrusts became sloppier while you both came down from your highs.

Moments later, Tommy collapsed next to you before pulling you closer for a kiss.

‘Are you alright?’ Tommy asked, running his hands over your cheek.

‘Yes’ you said quietly but with a big smile on your face.

‘The next time will be easier’ Tommy said, causing your eyes to light up.

‘You know I will hold you to the promise you made me earlier Tommy’ you said.

‘I was hoping that you would’ he grinned before wrapping his arm around you, pulling you onto his chest.

‘Will you stay with me tonight?’ you said as Tommy was brushing through your hair with his fingers.

‘Yes. Tonight and every night from now on if you want me to’ Tommy said gently.

Your body felt relaxed and at ease and, for the first time in six weeks, you felt comfortable in your own bed with your husband right beside you.

That night, he showed you a side of himself you hadn’t seen before, a side you were seeing yourself fall in love with it.

With Tommy holding you close, it wasn’t long until you drifted off to sleep.

But you weren’t the only who felt relaxed and at ease.

Tommy watched you sink into your dreams and a smile emerged on his face. He felt a familiar warmth washing over him, something he thought he wouldn’t be able to feel again.

As he turned off the bedside lamp, he felt a happiness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Unlike other nights, he wasn’t afraid to drift off to sleep because he knew that, tonight, there would be no nightmares and no memories of Grace, there would only be you.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic

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mrpenguinpants · 4 years

Text

Bennett: Affection HCs

I KNEW I HAD THIS ASK IN MY INBOX AND I JUST READ BENNETT’S BIRTHDAY LETTER TO YOU SO I SAID FUCK IT. I’M WRITING THIS. I MAY HAVE 2 FICS IN THE PROCESS BUT I CARE ABOUT BENNETT SO MUCH.

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Xiao Ver: Affection HCs

Bennet: Windblume Love Letter HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @ aanne2601 @aklxojjk @fulltimeventisimp @hanniejji

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Bennett: Affection HCs

Bennett has so much love and affection to share but he’s also so shy and awkward in his delivery. It’s so endearing that you can’t help but but try and stifle your giggles lest he get more embarrassed. He just get’s so nervous since this is his first relationship and he knows his track record on luck isn’t super bright so he’s always fumbling. Trying to force his nerves away when he wants to hold your hand but as soon as he reaches out to lace your fingers, you’ll turn around, and Bennett throws his arm back so hard that he accidently pops his shoulder out of his socket. While you’re fretting over him he’s trying to reassure you that he’s completely fine and that this happens all the time. Which isn’t very comforting, he thinks things could have been worse. What if he accidently slips and drags you down with him or even worse, his pyro vision acts up and he has sweaty hands? He’s screaming internally at that.

Bennett totally reads romance novels to get a better understanding on what a relationship is like but his execution is a bit questionable. He tries to be suave and attempts to wrap his arm around your shoulder but he accidently slips halfway and he’s fallen into the fountain. But when he hears your barely contained chuckles as you try and help him out, he can’t help but feel a flutter in his chest that he doesn’t mind the unlucky accidents that happen to him if it makes you laugh. He’ll shake the water out of his hair and grin at you before he takes your hand in his and you both go back to the church to dry him off.

Whenever he sees you he has to take a couple minutes to calm his heart. Even when he’s out with Fischl and she’s talking in her special way, as soon as he catches sight of you, he’s sighing in adoration with the love-sick puppy eyes. That’s when Fischl knows she’s completely lost Bennett and you’re probably behind her. She sighs out a bit exasperated as she shrugs before she’s dragging him to meet up with you. No matter how red Bennett gets or what he’s yelling, Fischl has a death grip on him and grins smugly before she calls out your name to let you know someone’s got heart eyes for you.

While he’s extremely grateful to the Adventures guild and Mondstadt, having you beside him really hits deep. That you accept and love him despite the unlucky streak he has. You are so special in his eyes and the fact you choose to stay with him makes him sniffle a bit. Somedays he wakes up and can’t help but feel the rush of happiness he feels just being able to see your smiling face. He might get poked fun from his Dads but it’s completely worth it. It’s actually really wholesome when Bennett wants to introduce you to his family since they already know plenty about you because Bennett will literally not shut up about you.

The praise he receives from his dads and Katherine make him grin happily but when you praise him, he ends up growing so shy and pink. Awkwardly scratching at his cheek as he says it wasn’t that big of a deal just because he wants to hear you praise him more. He’s pretty hard on himself so your words really mean a lot to him. Likewise, Bennett is super optimistic. He’s your #1 cheerleader and it’s contagious adopting his positivity outlook on life. Whatever you’re interested in or wish to do, he’s fully on board and supportive.

He’s always coming back from his adventures with scraps and cuts that it really concerns you when Bennett shakes his pain away. He’s always had a head-first battle tactic that’s not easy to change in one day, so instead you ask Barbara to teach your some healing abilities or tips to try and help him out a bit. While you’re a bit clumsy and not as well-versed as Barbara. Bennett still hugs you with so much force as he exclaims he’s never felt so empowered before.

When Bennett feels sad, he’ll lean his shoulder against yours and close his eyes. Slowly moving down until it’s his head against your arm. He stays there before you reach over and place his head in your lap and slowly run your fingers through his hair. It’s a small and ordinary moment but it means the whole world to Bennett.

Bennett always keeps whatever you give him in a special pouch, from a small slip of paper wishing him luck to the small four leaf clover you gave him, it’s always on him whenever he sets out. He knows that despite his best wishes, you can’t spent every waking moment together and he doesn’t want to endanger you with his bad luck on more dangerous expeditions. He actually full on bawled when you said you wanted to join the "Benny's Adventure Team" and actually stuck around even after all the unfortunate incidents that happened. But whenever he’s far away from Mondstadt, away from you, he’ll take a small break and go through the small trinkets you’ve given to him with the softest smile as he handles them with care. They are his treasures after all.

It’s been a rather challenging adventure today. Bennett and you took on a commission to investigate a hilichurl camp on Starsnatch cliff only to run across an Eye of the Storm instead. While you both managed to defeat it, you both got your fair share of cuts from the anemo winds and the hard ground when you had to dive away from the orb crashing down. You’re silently thanking yourself for taking those lessons from Barbara as you’re trying to patch him up.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect an Eye of Storm to appear instead. I guess my bad luck is spreading again,” Bennett chuckles awkwardly to himself as he winces a tiny bit at the throb of his cuts. You simply shake it off as you try and gently place the cloth back on his cheek to wipe away the small amount of blood. You’re just happy that you both managed to get away from that monster without any serious injuries.

“Don’t say that Bennett, we defeated it didn’t we? That’s one less problem for the Adventures guild right?” you say as you smile encouragingly at him. He nods in silent agreement but his eyes rake over the cuts and on arms and knees and he can’t help feel sadden. He gently pushes your hands away from his injury's as he opens his own pouch that carries his adhesive bandages to place upon your scrapes.

“Bennett?” you question. You’re so used to the happy go lucky Bennett that this sudden quiet atmosphere looms above you as Bennett quickly returns the favour. It’s only when he takes a small moment to scan your body for anything he missed before he takes your hands in his. Rubbing small circles over your skin, whether he’s trying to comfort you or himself into speaking you’re not entirely sure.

“There’s a dream I want to tell you about. I want to find the most valuable treasure to give back to Mondstadt and get our Adventures guild to become the biggest branch in Teyvat. That way my Dad’s can take a break and we can go adventuring all over the world. We can go visit Fischl at her home or take Razor to see the ocean!” he grins happily at you as his eyes light up in such a way that it takes you a few moments to register what he’s saying. You can feel such a rush of love pour into your system at his wholesome dream that you can’t help but clutch his hands closer to yourself.

“I’ll stay beside you the entire time and I promise we’ll make your dream a reality. Benny's Adventure Team will be the greatest adventure team there ever was,” you lean forward and boop your nose against his, “But you need to take better care of yourself first mister.”

“Now come on. Let’s go home together Bennett,” you smile down at him as you stand up and extend your hand out to him. It takes a few moments for Bennett to act as he gazes up at you. The hand that’s been placed in front of him as support in so many of his unlucky incidents, covered in the bandages he carries around from the family he cares about, the hand that is still there after everything. Bennet knows he’s always been unlucky. That’s just the way it is. He’s always running on what drops of luck he can grab and live life to the fullest but right now. Even with the dull stings of anemo winds on his cheeks, the throb of new bruises he’s probably developing, he reaches out and takes your hand. He’s never felt luckier in his entire life.

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Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go gag on the sugar I just wrote. I may have strayed away from the affection hcs but I care about Bennett and his character stories cripples me. I had to re-write this so there are some issues but I’m tired. Either way, Happy birthday best boy 💕💕💕

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 5

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re sitting in the car outside her mother’s house, and she’s stalling.

“Are we going inside?” Ethan asks with a confused smile, and she nods wearily.

She’s been dreading telling her family. Well, not her mother; Mom will be thrilled, as will Bill. Charlie will act appropriately happy but doesn’t actually care that much. But Missy….Missy will see right through her. She always does.

They exit the car and make their way to the front porch, her stomach twisting in her gut all the way. Ethan knocks, casting her concerned glances intermittently. She knows she’s not playing the part of “recently engaged” very well. She’s told Ethan that it’s just nerves, and that she hates making big announcements, which is true. She’s still trying to convince herself that’s all it is.

The door swings open and Charlie greets them with smiles and quick hugs, and they make their way to the kitchen where Mom is still finishing up dinner.

“Grab some wine and take a seat,” she directs them as they each kiss her on the cheek, “Missy should be here any minute.”

She pours herself a very full glass of wine after asking Ethan if he can drive home, then plants herself in an armchair that only seats one. She’s been craving personal space lately.

Ten minutes later, Missy breezes in the door, giving Dana a skeptical glance; leave it to Missy to immediately pick up on something being off. They better get this over with soon.

They all sit down and say grace. Missy holds her left hand and she can feel the moment her fingers make contact with the ring. Missy yanks on her arm and gives her wide eyes as everyone else at the table thanks the lord for their daily bread. Dana glances at her briefly and then looks away. It will all be out in the open momentarily.

“Before we dig into this lovely meal Mom has prepared for us,” Ethan begins, “Dana and I have some news to share.”

Oh god, here it comes. Maybe the huge glass of wine was a bad idea.

“Am I gonna be an uncle, D?!” Charlie says excitedly, and both she and Maggie shoot him an unamused glare.

“Not just yet, Charlie,” Ethan says with a cautious smile. “Dana and I got engaged. We’re getting married!”

Dana holds up her left hand with a thin smile, and Maggie and Charlie both provide appropriately big, happy reactions complete with hugs and congratulatory slaps on the back. Missy raises her eyebrows and looks at her baby sister with a bemused expression.

“Oh, this is such happy news, I wish your father could be here,” Maggie says, clutching her hand to her chest. “We’ll have to call Bill and Tara after dinner.”

Dana forces bites of pot roast down her throat and avoids her sister’s eye for the following twenty minutes, then leaves Ethan and her mother to share the news with Bill as she escapes to the back porch. Charlie, as usual, finds his way to the couch with a beer.

She’s sitting on the steps of the porch, working on her second glass of wine, when she hears the creak of the screen door behind her. She doesn't need to look to know that it’s Missy; she can hear the swish of her flowy skirt and the jangle of her stacked bracelets. Missy sits down beside her and they are quiet for a few minutes, the dark night illuminated by a waxing crescent moon.

“Is this really what you want, Sis?” Missy asks in a tone that’s soft and concerned.

“Of course, Missy. Ethan and I have been talking about getting married for years,” she says, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels.

“I know. But…” she trails off and sighs.

“But what?” Dana prods her.

“Look, Sis, Ethan is great. I love him, and he’ll make a great husband. I’m just not sure he’s the right one for you.” Dana can feel her sister looking at her in the dim light, but keeps her eyes on the blooming hydrangea bush at the bottom of the stairs.

“He’s a great guy, Missy. He’s kind, and generous, and he has a stable job. He treats me really well. There’s no reason NOT to marry him,” she offers, taking a big gulp of her wine. “Dad loved him, he’d be so happy to know we got married,” she adds.

Missy scoffs. “Two years underground and you’re still trying to please Dad?”

“He was cremated, Missy,” she replies deadpan, avoiding the point.

“Okay, so two years underwater, then. Doesn’t change the fact that Dad liking him isn’t a reason to marry someone. Neither is them being great husband material. The only reason to marry someone is because you want to marry them. Do you want to marry Ethan?” She can feel Missy’s eyes on her face.

“Yes,” she says in a weak voice, unwilling to elaborate.

Missy sighs. “Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. But if you change your mind-”

“-I’m not going to change my mind, Missy,” she cuts her off.

“Well,” Missy continues, “whatever happens, I’ll be here. Thick and thin, right?”

Dana looks at her sister then, and smiles as they clasp hands. “Thick and thin.”

The following week, she takes herself out for Sunday afternoon coffee to one of her favorite places near the apartment. She likes to go out alone for coffee or lunch sometimes, just to have some space to think. Lately, she’s been needing a lot of it. The cafe is bustling with the after-church crowd, which makes her feel guilty for not going to mass with her mother. It’s difficult to talk to Mom right now; all she wants to do is talk about the wedding, and that’s the last thing Dana wants to discuss. Ethan wants to get married soon, this fall, and the whole thing is so overwhelming she shuts down every time they try to talk to her about it. She wishes she could pause life for a while, until she can sort out her feelings.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she hears a familiar voice call from beside her, and she looks up to see Mulder, dressed casually in jeans and a grey T-shirt.

She smiles reflexively, the first time she’s felt a real smile tug at her lips in a week or more.

“Mulder, hi,” she says, genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this place is right near my dealer’s house,” he responds, and flashes her that boyish grin at her shocked expression. “I was actually just checking out a record store around the corner and decided to grab some coffee. How are you?” The question feels so real, like he actually wants to know how she is. She doesn’t want him to leave.

“I’m well, would you like to sit down?” she says as she gestures to the empty seat across from her, pulling her hand back when she realizes that he’ll likely notice her ring. She surreptitiously slips it off her finger and tucks it into her pants pocket.

He sits, and she can’t help but take in the way his shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and the hint of defined pectorals underneath. He is a seriously good-looking man.

“So, whatcha been up to?” He asks, taking a sip from his to-go cup.

She should tell him the happy news that she’s gotten engaged, but she very much doesn’t want to.

“Not much, just cutting up dead bodies and teaching others how to do the same,” she responds dryly.

“Slicin’ and dicin’,” he says with a nod, and she feels a sense of relief at being able to make such a crass joke to someone who understands the kind of work she does.

“Exactly. How about you, working on anything interesting?” she asks, and never has a social nicety been more genuine.

“That depends on your definition of interesting, I suppose,” he begins, “we’ve got the face mutilator, the acid thrower, and the super-stabber, who you’re familiar with.”

“Quite the line up,” she retorts.

“I realize I didn’t get the chance to ask how you ended up at the Academy,” he inquires.

“Oh, um I was actually recruited out of medical school,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee.

His eyebrows jump and he leans forward a bit. “You’re a doctor, then?” he asks, and she gauges only that he’s impressed, not surprised, which is a nice change of pace. People don’t seem to realize that it’s not a compliment to express disbelief that she, of all people, would be a medical doctor.

“Mmhmm, all pathologists are trained medical doctors,” she confirms with a nod.

“Your parents must be very proud,” he offers, and she makes a face.

“Not exactly. My father actually passed away a couple years ago, but he was less than pleased with my decision not to pursue medicine as a career. My mom is moderately more supportive, thankfully.”

She catches his eye and is surprised by the intensity of the look he’s giving her.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says as though he knew the man, and it catches her off guard a bit. She changes the subject.

“What about the X files, anything interesting happening there?”

“Well, no, given that they don’t exist anymore. You wanna hear about an old one I investigated?”

She nods emphatically.

“There was this team of researchers up in Icy Cape, Alaska. They were geophysicists, drilling ice core samples. They’d been up there a few weeks when there was an odd video communication received from one of the research team members saying “we are not who we are” before he shot himself in the head, then all communication went dark.”

“What happened to them?” Scully asks, leaning towards him. She’s immediately drawn in.

“Well, that’s what we went up there to find out; myself a physician, toxicologist and a geologist. When we got there, the whole crew was dead, only a dog that belonged to one of them survived. He appeared to be rabid, and he attacked me and our pilot. When we examined the dog, he had these black nodules on his skin.”

“That sounds like a symptom of bubonic plague,” Scully offers.

“That’s what Dr. Hodge thought too. Anyway, the pilot ended up getting infected as well, and we had to restrain him and remove this worm-thing from his neck. He died immediately after we removed it.”

“A worm-thing?” Scully asks, “what was it?”

“I’m still not entirely sure. The geologist found an ice core sample that was probably over 250,000 years old, and I think the worm came from the ice. Some kind of prehistoric parasite that overtakes its host. We eventually figured out that to kill it, you have to introduce a second worm into the host, and they’ll destroy each other.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard about this? It seems like the kind of discovery that would make the news, at least in the science community,” her mind is reeling, now with excitement.

“Well, that’s the thing. After we were evacuated, they destroyed the drill site and all the evidence.”

“They?” she inquires. “Who is ‘they’?”

Mulder smiles knowingly and she has the overwhelming urge to touch him.

“That’s the million dollar question, Scully. That’s what the X files sought to answer. Who, or what, is behind the mass coverup of information that would prove the existence of extraterrestrial life?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most irrefutable fact in the world instead of some half-cocked conspiracy theory.

“Huh,” she sits back in her chair. “Are there a lot of cases like that one? In the X files?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks, and she can tell that he’s pleased by her interest in his old work.

“Hundreds, though I only have about fifty in my possession. I took the juiciest ones, of course.”

“What else is there? Tell me about another one,” she asks unabashedly. She’s fascinated.

Mulder looks at his watch and makes a face. “I wish I could, but I have a prior engagement. I have them stored at my apartment, I could show you sometime, if you’d like. Do you like cats?”

Her eyebrows lift. “Is there an X file about cats?” she asks, and he laughs.

“No. Well, actually yes, but I’m asking because I have a cat. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“Oh, no,” she says as she feels her cheeks warm.

He reaches into his wallet and hands her his business card. “Give me a call, or shoot me an email. I’ll show you what the FBI doesn’t want you to see,” he punctuates this with a wag of his eyebrows as he stands. “It was really good to see you, Scully,” he says with an earnest look, those eyes seemingly seeing right through her.

She swallows hard. “You too, Mulder,” she replies, and watches him walk out the cafe door.

She looks down at the business card in her hands:

Fox W. Mulder

Criminal Behavioral Analyst

Behavioral Science Unit

She wonders what the W stands for. She wonders why she cares.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #alternate universe #x files fanfic

46 notes · View notes

kaylaxwrites · 4 years

Text

Catch the Wind

Pairing: Matt Murdock/reader Words: 7.2k Summary: You like Matt. You’re pretty sure he likes you too. Then why does he say no when you ask? What is he hiding and why won’t Foggy tell you?Request: “How about an old friend of Foggy and Matt, who has this will they won’t they thing with Matt and she finally tries to act on it for her only to get turned down by him. His decision was because he is too focused on being Daredevil and doesn’t want her to be swept up in that so they decide to be friends, but it takes a strain on her relationship with Matt but also with Foggy too. Then like decide where it should go from there” (anon) A/N: decided to put this all in one part at an attempt for more notes lol

For me to love you now Would be the sweetest thing T'would make me sing Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind

“Catch the Wind” - Donovan

You had been best friends with Matt Murdock for nearly as long as you could remember. As the longest—and oldest—resident of Saint Agnes Orphanage, you had been assigned to show Matt around when he first arrived after his father’s death.

You quietly knocked on the open doorframe. The boy inside sniffled and quickly wiped away his tears before turning towards you. “Come in,” he said, never meeting your eyes. At first, you assumed he was embarrassed to be caught crying.

“Nice glasses,” you offered, hoping to draw his attention away from the death of his parents—or whatever happened to his family that led him here.

The boy pushed the glasses higher up on his nose. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

You stepped across the room and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “You must be special. Sister Anne would never let me wear sunglasses inside.”

“Oh, they’re…not really…sunglasses.”

He spoke so quietly, you didn’t really make out what he said. So you continued talking anyway. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Matt Murdock.”

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Matt Murdock.” You froze awkwardly as the kid made no motion to shake your hand. But then you put everything together—his dark glasses, the way he never met your eyes, the cane you were now noticing against the wall—he was blind. And you were an idiot. “I’m, uh, holding out my hand for you to shake.”

“Oh, sorry.”

At last, you shook hands, and you tried not to let the awkwardness sink in. “Um, so Sister Maggie told me to show you around. Do you want to go?” Matt nodded and stood, collecting his cane off the wall. You stood as well, unsure of yourself. “I’ve given this tour a dozen times to newbies, but never to a blind guy. How does this work? Do we hold hands or…?” You quickly shut your mouth. Obviously, you wouldn’t be holding hands—why would you hold hands with a stranger?

“No,” Matt chuckled. “Just give me your elbow.”

“Oh, sure.” You did as Matt said and led him out to the hallway. “I don’t know if they told you, but your room is the third one on the right. You must be lucky. You got a single room. Most of us have to share.” You directed Matt down the stairs until you were on the first floor. “We can’t go in now because they’re setting up for dinner, but the dining hall is here on the left. Breakfast is at 7 on weekdays, 8 on weekends, and dinner is always at 6.” You led Matt further down the hall and out the door. You stepped into a small, sunlit courtyard.

“This is the way to the church,” you continued explaining. “I don’t know if you’re Catholic, but you’re gonna be here real soon.” You stopped in front of the doors to the church, but didn’t go inside. “We’re required to go to Mass Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, as well as the weekly Mass school gives.”

“School?”

“Yeah, Saint Agnes also runs a school on the other side of the block. It’s where we all go.”

“So I won’t be able to go to my old school anymore?”

You sighed. Newbies always had a hard time finding out they’d no longer be attending school with their friends. “No. Sorry.” His face fell. “But! I think we’re in the same grade, so we should have some classes together. I remember when I was the new kid, but, hey—you already got one friend. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“What friend?”

You nudged his shoulder. “Me, doofus.”

Matt smiled softly at you and from that moment on, you were thick as thieves.

As you grew, you slowly realized you probably had more-than-friends feelings for Matt, but you never spoke about them out loud, nor did you dwell on them very often. Matt was your best friend—your only friend—and you didn’t want that to change. So you locked the butterflies in your stomach down tight and shoved those feelings in the back of your brain. It didn’t help that as you neared graduating high school, everyone thought you were dating. You even caught the nuns who worked the orphanage whispering sometimes about how wonderful the two of you would look married—as if things would ever get that far.

When you went to college, your pool of friends expanded by one: Matt’s roommate, Foggy. Foggy quickly became your other best friend—since you were around Matt all the time, it made sense that you and Foggy would be close as well. In fact, it was to Foggy one drunken night when you confessed your feelings for Matt for the first time.

You and Foggy stumbled back to campus after a night out on the town. You, Foggy, and alcohol were never a good mix—you always tried to drink the other under the table until neither of you could stand upright. You leaned against each other for support as Foggy fumbled with his keys to the dorm. You laughed loudly when he dropped them and fell trying to pick them up, but he quickly shushed you. “Shhhhh. Matt’s trying to study,” he slurred, trying and failing to whisper quietly. Matt said he couldn’t go out with the two of you that night because he had a test on Monday morning.

You made a zipping motion over your mouth, but giggled again as you watched Foggy unlock the door. He was on his knees, the doorknob at eye level, as he concentrated on putting the key in the lock as a surgeon would make an incision. He fell on his stomach when the door finally swung open. You leaped over him as soon as you could, eager to see Matt and annoy him to stop studying.

But the room was empty.

You turned to Foggy (finally standing), almost pouting. “Maybe he had to go to the library?” he offered. You shrugged, and then collapsed onto Matt’s bed. You weren’t sure your legs would hold you up any longer.

Foggy puttered around the room, trying to drunkenly change clothes, as you snuggled into Matt’s pillow. You closed your eyes to stop the world from spinning, but that made you realize how tired you were. “You know,” you yawned, almost half asleep now, “I think that girl at the bar really liked you.”

“Who? The pink shirt?”

You nodded into the pillow. “Yeah, she kept looking at you and smiling.”

“Huh.”

You peeked open one eye to stare at him. “Are you not going to ask me why I didn’t act as your wing woman?”

Foggy’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, no, that’s okay.” His voice was higher pitched than usual. What was he trying to hide? If you could move your limbs, you would have crossed the room to stare him down. As it was, you tried to be as intimidating as you could with your face half squished in a pillow.

“Who do you like?” you asked after a moment, finally coming to the conclusion that he must have a crush on someone.

“No one. Who do you like?” he countered.

“I’ll answer if you answer.”

He stared at you for a moment before flopping back on his bed. “You know the girl from my study group?”

You quickly sat up, instantly regretting it as the room—and your stomach—swirled uncomfortably. But you pushed it aside. “Marci Stahl? You like Marci?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Ooh, I am so going to have to tell her.”

“Don’t!” Foggy quickly turned to face you.

“Why not? I already know she likes you.”

“She does?”

“Um, yeah, it’s obvious.” That, and she sat with you at lunch one day and had asked about him.

“Cool,” he sighed happily, laying back down. You huffed a laugh, surprised that was all he had to say. You slumped back into Matt’s bed, eyes drifting closed. You were almost asleep when Foggy called you out on your promise. “Who do you like?”

You froze. You tried to search for a fake name, but the copious amounts of alcohol you had this evening meant you couldn’t think of one. So you sighed and figured you might as well say it. Foggy wouldn’t tell, right? And it was probably best you got it out of your system. “Uh…Matt?” you said quietly. You weren’t even sure if Foggy heard you.

But he did, and after a moment’s silence, he asked, “Have you told him?”

“Definitely not. I didn’t want to mess anything up between us and now…”

“Elektra,” Foggy finished for you.

It seemed Matt had been hanging out with Elektra more than you and Foggy lately. You tried not to let it get to you. Matt was allowed to have other friends, after all—even girlfriends—but something about her gave you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t put your finger on the feeling or why it was there, but it worried you nonetheless.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” you asked. But Foggy was already asleep.

You were pretty sure Foggy kept this secret over the years, as Matt never once mentioned it to you. Or he was so drunk he forgot about it. That, or Matt similarly thought you should just be friends and never brought it up himself. Either was okay with you.

But now your feelings were somehow growing and you were ready for things to change.

You were hanging out at Matt’s apartment—you always did, every Friday. It was tradition. The two of you were tucked into opposite ends of the couch, watching random things on your laptop. You described what was happening whenever an audio description wasn’t available. But it had been several minutes since you last spoke. Matt hadn’t dozed off, like you originally believed, but he was lost in thought. You tried not to disturb him, thinking he was planning his opening for a case or something like that.

But the three glasses of wine in your system had other plans.

You slowly slid across the middle of the couch until you were inches away, thighs nearly touching. Matt gave no indication that he noticed you. “Hey, Matt?” you whispered after a few moments of silence. His head tilted towards you, indicating that he was listening, but he said nothing. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” he replied. He turned his body to face you, realizing from the tone of your voice, you guessed, that this was serious.

“I-I—uh…” you began. You heart pounded. What even were words? “Ilikeyou,” you finally breathed in one rush of words.

“I like you too.”

Your heart constricted. “More than friends, I mean.”

“I know.”

What? Your brain froze. You couldn’t comprehend. You were expected Matt to laugh you off, Matt to turn you down, Matt to do anything but that. “You—you do?” Matt nodded. “Then why…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He was smiling at you.

“I didn’t want to change anything. Between us. But I told Foggy once in college… I think maybe part of me thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his big mouth shut.”

“Oh, he told me.”

Your eyes widened. “He did? Oh, I’m gonna kill him.” You sprung from the couch, searching for your phone. But Matt stopped you with a hand around your wrist.

“Hey, it’s fine.” He pulled you back to sit next to him. Your thighs were pressed against one another. “I thought you wanted him to spill.”

“A bigger part of me wanted him to forget. We were really drunk that night.”

Matt’s thumb moved to rub circles on the inside of your wrist. Goosebumps raised on your skin. “I remember.” You were surprised he did. But you guessed maybe it was hard to forget the time your best friend told your other best friend that they liked you. Even if you weren’t there. You were sure Foggy gave him all the details.

Matt continued to rub circles into your skin and it was hard to think about much else. Your eyes raised to meet his. You sighed. His eyes were so gorgeous. You wished he didn’t hide them behind his glasses all the time, but you understood. Even then, you wished you could stare into his eyes all day.

Your gaze flicked down to his mouth. Before you knew it, your lips were pressed into his. He froze for a second, not returning the kiss, and you panicked. But before you could pull away, his hand was on the side of your face, pulling you closer. As your lips crashed into one another, you regretted not doing this sooner. He was an amazing kisser.

As things delved deeper, you turned to press your body tightly against his. You threw one leg across his lap and eased him back against the back of the couch. Your hands roamed—through his hair, over his shoulder, down his arms, across his chest. But when you brushed across his ribs, he gasped in pain and pulled back. You instantly sprung off of him.

“Oh, my god, are you okay?” you asked. “What happened?” You knew Matt somehow amassed a large collection of bruises and broken bones—he was just clumsy, he’d tell you ever since they started appearing in your teens. But you weren’t so sure. You’d never even seen Matt stumble once. You slapped Matt’s hands away as you reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his ribcage.

Blue bruises stood in stark contrast to his skin, surrounded by cuts and scratches of various depths. He winced when your fingers ghosted across the widest bruise—was a rib broken? Several other injuries trailed around his side and you figured his back was in similar shape.

“What happened?” you demanded once more. “Have you gone to the doctor? Were you mugged? Did you call the police?”

Matt’s hands landed on your shoulders to stop your barrage of questions. “I’m fine,” he said, but he gave no further explanation.

“That’s not fine, Matt.”

“I saw a nurse. It’s nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief. But you were still left with so many questions. “Who did this to you? What happened?”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it’s handled. They won’t be bothering anyone else.”

“That’s good,” you sighed. You wanted to ask more questions, but you knew Matt was being purposefully vague. Why wouldn’t he tell you what happened? Why didn’t he tell you that he was hurt? You wanted to press him more, but you knew Matt was as stubborn as a bull and there was no way you’d get any more information out of him. Tonight, at least. So you decided to distract yourself with the other question filling your head. “So…what about us?”

“We can’t.” Matt’s answer was immediate. No hesitation.

You felt as if a horse had kicked you in the chest. Your breath was knocked out of you. “What?”

“I…we can’t. There’s too many things going on and I can’t risk it.”

“What’s going on? You can tell me—you can always come to me. You know you can.”

Matt hung his head, leaning over his knees. “I can’t.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears. Matt always came to you. You practically told each other everything. Had you messed things up by confessing your feelings?

“Does it have to do with your bruises?” you said softly.

Matt didn’t reply.

You stared at him, searching for words to say, begging for him to say something. But each of you remained silent.

Nothing.

“I have to go,” you said at last. You scrambled to throw on your shoes and gather your things.

Your heart shattered when Matt made no move to stop you.

“Do you know what’s going on with Matt?” you asked Foggy, pushing your food around with your fork. The two of you were at your favorite diner for your regular biweekly lunches.

“Uh, no. What do you mean?” Foggy’s eyes instantly darted out of the window. He fiddled with his hands. Foggy may be a lawyer, but you had known him long enough to know he knew exactly what was going on.

“I was at his place the other night and he had these bruises…” You gestured over your ribcage, indicating where Matt’s bruises were located.

“Oh. He probably fell down the stairs again. You know Matt.” Foggy chuckled nervously. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed skeptically. You stared Foggy down. Once or twice, he would glance up at you, but his gaze fluttered away when he realized you were still staring. The waitress brought your checks over and he fumbled getting his money out of his wallet and struggled with gathering his things. Before he could get up and leave, you spoke his name, forcing him to look at you. “Foggy. What’s going on with Matt?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Foggy.”

He looked at you and sighed. You were hoping he realized you wouldn’t back down. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“He promised me not to.”

“Is he in some sort of secret blind Fight Club?”

“If only.”

You reached across the table to grab Foggy’s arms. You leaned towards him. If your college days taught you anything, you might be able to puppy-dog-eye your way to get what you want. “Foggy. Is he in trouble?” you said slowly, quietly.

He turned his head, looking away, as if to find somebody who would rescue him from your gaze. But there was no one. “Y/N, I…I really can’t do this.” His voice was weak. “I can’t tell you.” He pulled free from your grasp, standing and walking away from you. “I’ll see you next week,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the building.

You sat back in your seat, resting heavily against the booth. What was going on? There was nothing, nothing that they had hidden from you before.

At least…not that you knew of.

So why were they hiding this?

You ignored their texts and calls over the next couple of days. You were angry that they were keeping things from you. You were upset that Matt had rejected your feelings just like that, so easily. Your emotions overwhelmed you and you weren’t sure how to process them—so you just ignored them.

After about a week of the silent treatment, they sent Karen over to your apartment one night. She carried your favorite takeout in her hands as a bribe. You took it, of course, but you weren’t happy about it.

“They’re worried about you,” Karen said once the two of you were sat at your table, food dished out in front of you.

You speared a vegetable with a little too much force. “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t have to be if they would just tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m sure they have good reason.”

“You didn’t see the state Matt was in. Something big is going on.”

“Matt said he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was mugged and they don’t want to tell you so you’re not worried?”

“I wish that was the case.” You turned to face her. “How are you so calm about this? I mean, don’t you think something’s up?”

“I talked to him a few days ago and…he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. With Matt’s stubbornness, he wouldn’t tell you anything until the information leaked on its own. You’d have to wear down Foggy or…

Karen sighed. She could tell she wasn’t going to be able to get through to you. She decided to change the subject before you could rant any more.

“Seen anything good on Netflix lately?” she offered and the two of you made small talk for the rest of the evening.

A few days later, you were cursing yourself as you were backed into an alleyway. How could you be so stupid? You dropped your guard walking home for one minute and look where it got you. You knew to always be aware of your surroundings, so why did you stop to check the notification on your phone? Just one cute video sent from a friend of her dog and you were about to be robbed of your belongings…or worse.

You tried to form an escape plan—or at least a get-out-alive plan—but your brain was short-circuiting. You nearly shrieked when a dark mass seemingly fell from the sky. Your heart sped faster. Was this man an accomplice to your attacker? Would you now have to face two men to get out of this alley?

But you breathed a small sigh of relief as the man rose from his crouched position on the concrete. You had seen enough pictures in the Bulletin to recognize that this was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. In the flesh. Right here in front of you.

The masked man took only one step forward but it was enough to send your would-be attacker running for the hills. The masked man cocked his head to the side, listening for a moment, before turning to face you. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was comforting, like an old friend.

You let out a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” You crossed your arms in an effort to hide your trembling hands. “I wish I knew all it took to scare someone away was to wear a mask. Maybe I’ll start carrying one around.”

The man smiled, small but tense. “If only that’s all it took.”

You glanced awkwardly around the alley, unsure of what to say next. “I, um, thank you?” You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” you tried again. “I…I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.” You tried to clamp down on your wandering thoughts, but it was hard to stop the flashes of possibilities in your brain.

“Is there anyone you could call to come get you?”

Matt. Foggy. Karen. But you still didn’t feel like reaching out to any of them just yet. You shook your head. “No. My apartment’s just two blocks away, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just a little shaken, but I can make it. Thank you.”

The man hesitated a moment longer, seeming to check that you would actually be all right, before scaling the nearby fire escape in leaps and bounds until he disappeared in shadow. You took a moment to collect yourself before stepping out into the warm light of a streetlamp. You hesitantly made your way home, skittish and jumping at every little noise. You sighed a breath of relief when the deadbolt of your front door finally slid closed.

Even though you were on the fifth floor, you went around your apartment, checking that every window was locked and secured. You pulled the blinds closed for good measure. You froze when you spotted a figure crouched on the fire escape across the street, but smiled as you realized it was the masked man, seeing you safely home. Despite the evening’s events, you felt safe knowing the masked man was protecting the city.

You spotted the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen several more times over the next few weeks. You would catch glimpses of him on your walk home, spot him in shadows from out your window, heard the stories of those he saved. It was comforting, knowing he was out there. You didn’t think his persistent presence would one day turn against you.

You awoke in the middle of the night to a noise in your apartment. You laid still, ears searching for another sound. You relaxed when you heard none after a few minutes. Maybe your neighbor just dropped something, you thought. You closed your eyes and tried to fall back asleep. You tensed again at the sound of fabric rustling, realizing after a moment it was just your window curtains in the breeze. What had you so jumpy tonight? You had seen the masked man just this evening, keeping watch over the block. You knew nothing was going to happen…

You were nearly asleep when a hand clamped over your mouth and nose.

You were dazed and confused when your eyes finally fluttered open. You weren’t in your bed—had you fallen asleep working at the kitchen table again? You moved to stretch your arms and back, but something tugged tight at your wrists. You glanced down with groggy eyes to find a neatly knotted rope around each arm. You kicked your legs to find that they were similarly bound.

In an instant, your sleepy mind flashed to full clarity.

Not good. This was definitely not good.

Your eyes focused just ahead of you. Across a small wooden table was a well-dressed man with dark hair. He was sitting casually, almost lazily, with one leg draped across the arm of his chair. He was twirling a knife idly in his right hand and barely glanced at you when he spoke. “Finally awake?”

“Where am I?” you responded, giving another futile tug to your bindings.

“New York City,” the man deadpanned. You nearly rolled your eyes—you could’ve figured that one out yourself. The sounds were distant, muffled, but you could still make out the sound of the hustle and bustle of the busy city. You couldn’t exactly tell which borough you had been brought to, but you knew you weren’t in a residential area. The room you were in was big with tall ceilings, dim construction lights, and no windows aside from darkened skylights on the roof. An abandoned factory. A warehouse, maybe.

Well, isn’t that just a bit cliché.

You shivered as a draft eased over your skin. The building certainly didn’t have central AC—you were freezing in the thin pajamas you had been kidnapped it.

Kidnapped.

You had just been kidnapped. Why this was only registering now, you weren’t sure. You fought the panic rising in your chest. Hyperventilating now would be no good and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you passed out. A count of five to control your breathing, then: “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not you we want, sweetheart.” He rose from his seat, straightening his suit jacked and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. He slowly stepped around the table and you couldn’t help but be reminded of a jaguar stalking its prey. You tensed when he disappeared behind you, but he was only gone for a moment before tossing several issues of the Bulletin across the table. “It’s him.”

You cautioned a closer look at the papers in front of you. Featured on each page was a different grainy photo of the man in the mask, Daredevil, whatever they were calling him these days. “I don’t—I don’t know him.”

“You don’t?” The man—your kidnapper—pulled out a few photographs, placing them slowly in front of you. The first was of you and Daredevil walking side by side. It was taken shortly after he had saved you from that alley, you realized, when he escorted you home. The second was a picture of the fire escape landing just outside your window. You were leaning out the window, handing him a bottle of water—the defender of Hell’s Kitchen needed to be hydrated, right? But glancing at the third picture, you were unsure of what it had to do with you. Until you realized it was of him kneeling on the rooftop of the building across from yours.

“We’ve been trying to track him down,” your kidnapper continued, “as he’s been interfering with several…business ventures of ours. He’s been very hard to locate. Fortunately for us, your apartment is one of his more…frequented locations. We just want to know who he is. Then we might be able to…set you free.”

“But I don’t know him!” you insisted again.

Your kidnapper retrieved a knife from his pocket, sliding the flat of it up the side of your arm. “It would be easier on the both of us if you just told me his name.”

“It would be easier if you’d just listen! I don’t know—” Your words abruptly cut off as the man slid the point of the knife against your thigh—not deep, but enough to slice through your pant leg and draw a thin line of blood. You could almost laugh. You were expecting much, much worse. “That’s the best you could do? I’ve had paper cuts worse—”

Your eyes widened. Why were you mouthing off at a time like this? Why would you say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid… In a flash, the man’s palm struck across your cheek, turning your head sideways. You tasted blood. Your lip was split. Fantastic.

“I just need a name.”

“I don’t have one!”

“Then let’s just hope he finds you in time.”

“What? No, please, please!” you shouted as his fist collided with your temple.

It was a slow night for Matt. He hadn’t stumbled across any emergencies needing his assistance nor could he hear any in the surrounding area. The night was almost too slow, it seemed. Without anything to do, he jogged across rooftops until he reached your apartment building. He always told himself it was just part of his nightly sweep of the neighborhood, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

It had been weeks since you’d talked to him—well, talked to him as Matt, that is. You had been his best friend for nearly two decades now. It pained him every day the two of you didn’t talk.

But it wasn’t like he didn’t understand.

He rejected you. He probably broke your heart and, to top it all off, he was hiding a huge secret from you! He understood why you were giving him the silent treatment—he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed—but he was thankful he could still at least check on you every day, even if it was as the Daredevil. He just wished you wouldn’t take it out on Foggy, too.

Foggy was torn, to say the least. He hated to see his two best friends apart like this and hated knowing he had contributed to it in some way. He wanted to tell you Matt’s secret, he really did! But he couldn’t. He desperately wanted to tell you so you could talk some sense into Matt, get him off the streets every night, but he couldn’t betray Matt’s trust like that. Even as much as he wanted to. He’d tell Matt as much, but things were already tense between them as they were.

Shaking his thoughts aside, Matt stepped gently onto your fire escape. He first noticed the cool air seeping out the window to your apartment. How many times would he have to remind you to lock it? He made three quick raps against the pane, alerting you to his presence. He waited for you to answer, but you never showed. He turned his attention away from the city and directed it to the inside of your apartment. But…he couldn’t hear you.

He could hear the loud thumping of the heartbeat of your upstairs neighbor and the quieter beats of her two cats but not you. He slid your window open wider and slipped into the space of your kitchen. The air was still. You hadn’t been here in a few hours. Dread pooled deep in his stomach.

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket. Normally, he left it behind, but part of him hoped you would end your silent treatment one of these nights. Whatever the reason, he was thankful he had it. He just had to assure himself that you were okay—perhaps you’d gone to the store or out to a movie with a friend. He quickly dialed your number, paling when he heard your phone buzz on your bedside table. He hung up. Foggy’s number was next.

“Matt?” Foggy asked groggily, disoriented from waking up and confused that Matt was actually calling him.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” Matt asked quickly.

“No. Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just…stopped by her apartment and she’s not here. She’s not answering her phone.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably at a friend’s place. Asleep. Like we should be.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” Matt ended the call, nearly throwing the phone across the room in frustration. Something wasn’t right about this. He paced across your apartment, freezing when he caught the scent of…cologne? His heart dropped a little. Maybe you found somebody to replace—

His mind made the connection. That was the same cologne as one of the crime bosses he’d been following.

This time, he did throw his phone across the room.

You realized at some point you’d gone unconscious. You awoke to a throbbing in your skull and sharp pains across your abdomen. You couldn’t feel the rest of your body, but you generally felt like you had been hit by a truck. The taste of blood was heavy on your tongue. You pried your eyes open, but everything was blurry. Was one of your eyes swollen shut or just could you not see from the pain in your head? You pried your eyes open further and winced. Swollen. Your eye was definitely swollen.

You couldn’t catalogue any other specific injuries. All the pain swelled together, indistinguishable from one another. You thought maybe a finger was broken, but you couldn’t tell for sure. It definitely hurt every time you tried to flex your hand, though. You also realized deep breaths were something to steer clear from.

Your captor noticed your movements and stepped into your field of vision, leaning against the table in front of you. “Back, are we?” he asked. He casually bumped your knee with his, almost affectionately. You hissed from the pain the movement caused.

“Didn’t…didn’t think I could leave,” you wheezed. You’d certainly begged for it earlier. But your kidnapper made it clear the Devil arriving would be your only hope. Your kidnapper…you really needed to give him a name.

“Not yet.” Your captor—Zane. Yeah, let’s call him Zane—picked up a knife from behind him and twirled it in the air. You tensed, waiting for the pain to come, but he just continued to stare at you.

“Okay, listen,” you begged. “I’m weak. I’m weak, I know I am. I’m weak to torture. If I knew anything, it’d have spilled already. You’re good—you’re good at what you do, but I don’t have anything—”

“Flattery gets you nowhere. Besides, that isn’t even the goal anymore.” A glint from the knife was your only warning before it was embedded in your thigh. You screamed, begging, pleading, that your hero would find you.

Your bloodcurdling scream sent ice down Matt’s spine.

He had been poised outside the warehouse, waiting, listening, trying to find the best course of action to rescue you. But that sound had him throwing caution to the wind. He dove through the nearest window.

Three men were in this hallway. Matt dodged a bullet one of the men fired before ripping the gun out of his hands. A solid strike from the butt of the gun rendered the man unconscious and Matt turned to face the other two. His mind turned to autopilot as he incapacitated his enemies. Every move was instinctual, every hit uncaring.

At last, he found where you were being held in the center of the building. He tensed as he stepped into the room, hands raising in a sign of no harm. You were being held at gunpoint. Every step he took pressed the gun tighter into your temple, so he froze, thirty feet away from you.

Tears were streaming down your face. You knew a gun was being held to your head, but you weren’t conscious of much more than that and the knife still hilt-deep in your leg. Ringing in your ears drowned out all other sound. You weren’t sure how the Daredevil made it across the room or took down Zane, but you instinctively reacted when hands pressed down on your shoulders.

“No, please, stop!” you begged. “I don’t know who he is, I swear.”

Slowly, your senses came back to you. “Hey, it’s me. Calm down,” you heard. Your eyes fluttered open. The masked man blearily came into focus. You wished you knew what he looked like. He’d probably have such gorgeous eyes… “Y/N, hey.” A hand tapped the side of your face. “I need you to stay awake, okay? I’m gonna get you some help.”

“My eyes closed?” you mumbled. You were trying to stay awake, but your eyes had plans of their own.

“Yeah, they did.” He knelt down to untie the rope around your wrists and ankles. Once free, he tucked an arm under your knees and behind your low back. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.” On a count of three, he lifted you into his arms and you were out like a light.

You groaned some time later as you were laid gently on what you thought to be a couch. You couldn’t tell where you were—higher thinking was on the backburner currently. The pain quickly erased any thought that came into your mind. You fought to open your eyes, though. You had to know if you were safe.

You were in a small apartment, on a living room couch like you originally thought. An expansive first aid kit was spread on the coffee table next to you. Several of the tools were bloodied; several packages were ripped open. You raised your eyes higher to find a woman and a man having a heated discussion. The man you knew—it was the Daredevil. You could tell even though his back was turned. The woman, though…you weren’t sure her identity. She wore blue, bloodied gloves and the ears of a stethoscope were around her neck. You caught the last of her argument.

“She needs a hospital, Matt. Only surgeons are qualified to remove impaled objects. And I, as good as I am at stitching you up, am not a surgeon.”

You thought hard to make sense of the words. Who needed a hospital? And wait… “Matt?” you croaked. She said Matt? Daredevil instinctively turned at the sound of your voice and you gasped at what you saw. His mask had been removed. You met the eyes of your best friend. Matt Murdock. “What? It’s you?” Matt sighed and ran a hand over his face. Fuck. This was everything he was trying to avoid. “This was why you had those bruises?” He nodded. “Foggy knows?” He nodded again. This was too much for you to wrap your head around.

Matt knelt by your head and took one of your hands in his. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. This is why I couldn’t tell you, why we couldn’t be together. I knew someone was going to use you to get to me. It’s all my fault—”

You stopped his tirade with a whisper of his name. “Matt, it’s not your fault.” You reached up to wipe a smear of blood off his cheek. You weren’t even sure who it belonged to—you, him, or one of your kidnappers. “It’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later. Right now I’m in a lot of pain and getting a lot of blood on a stranger’s couch. I need to know what the plan is.”

Matt turned to the woman and then sighed. “This is my friend Claire. She’s a nurse at Metro General. She’s going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Matt moved to stand, but you gripped his arm. “You’re not going?”

“I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. I have to change clothes first. I can’t show up looking like this.” He gestured broadly to his bloodied suit. Your grip tightened. You didn’t want him to leave you. “I trust Claire with my life. She’s safe.”

You slowly loosened your grip. “Be fast,” you whispered. Matt nodded.

He and Claire loaded you into the passenger seat of her car. Matt pressed a kiss into your temple before closing the door behind you. Soon, the car was moving and you bared your teeth through the pain each turn and bump caused. Claire was a constant stream of “sorry.” You fought with everything you had to stay awake, but with the adrenaline gone, you felt every injury at full volume. But one ginormous pothole was all it took for your strength to shatter.

You groaned as you came to. Your eyes fluttered against the bright lights, but once they adjusted, you found you were in a hospital room. “I want to stop waking up in random places,” you whined. This was the third strange place you had woken up in since…however long it was since you were last at your apartment. A calendar on the wall said it was Sunday. So, two days.

Matt startled awake at the sound of your voice. You glanced over at him. He’d been trying to sleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. He had dark circles under his eyes, worse than usual. Had he been here this whole time? “You look like shit, Matt,” you said.

“Y/N, I—” he started, but you cut him off.

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand now, I do.” Matt slid his chair across the floor until he was right by your side. You reached down to take his hand.

“But if I—”

“There’s a million things both of us could have done differently to not end up right where we are. The blame’s not all on you, Matt.”

He was silent for a few moments. He pressed the back of your hand against his lips as he thought. “How are you not mad at me?” he eventually asked.

“They got me on the good drugs right now, I think. But once they release me…ooh, you’re in for it.” You squeezed his hand, smiling.

“Yeah?” He returned your smile.

“Yeah.” You sat quietly for a few moments, your heart monitor filling in the easy silence. “So are you really blind? Or is that something to throw off people from finding out your secret identity?”

“You think I’ve had an alter ego since I was ten?” he laughed.

“You never know,” you shrugged. You burrowed deeper into your pillows. “I think I’m going to take a nap now. Will you stay?”

“Always.”

You were nearly asleep when you had to murmur one last thought. “I love you, Matt.”

“I love you too.”

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock/reader #repost #kayla rambles #mine

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nerdygaymormon · 3 years

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Pride 2021 - My Best Pride Month

With the end of Pride month, I’ve been reflecting on some amazing developments.

————————————————————

Rexburg, Idaho had it’s very first Pride festival and parade.

There were more than 1,000 participants!!!

In 1993 I attended my first semester of college in Rexburg and became best friends with my roommate.

One night at the end of the semester, my roommate came out as bi and I revealed I’m gay. I had dreams of us leaving college, church, and our families in order to pursue a life together (this is before gay marriage was legal).

I woke up with such hope that the happiness I thought could never be mine was possible. I looked over to see my roommate was gone, which was unusual, he wasn’t an early riser.

He’d gone to see the bishop and turn me in for being gay. The bishop came to see me and put me on probation, I was lucky they didn’t kick me out of school (the rules were different back then, even identifying as “gay” or saying that a “gay lifestyle” is normal or good were against the rules).

Waiting for the bishop to decide if I would be kicked out and maybe even decide to ‘out’ me to my family was torture. Being on probation meant I had to check in regularly with the bishop all summer. The only way I could think of to take back control of my life was to go further in the closet, not reveal my inner self to anyone, never to hope for a life like was presented at church as the only way to happiness. Happiness was not for me.

To that scared freshman who was heartbroken and feeling like he didn’t have control of his life and the world was against him, the idea that Rexburg would one day hold a Pride event would be impossible to imagine.

————————————————————

BYU Pride Parade - 1st ever

A group of anonymous queer BYU students put out the idea to have a BYU Pride Parade, and about 1,500 people showed up.

After Rexburg, I went to school in Provo. At the time the BYU Honor Code specifically forbade participating in public demonstrations advocating for a homosexual lifestyle (Pride events), as well as a ban on advertising your same-sex preference in any public way (no wearing a rainbow flag pin or even telling others that I’m gay).

Dating is the national pasttime of BYU, and I wasn’t allowed to participate or reveal why I didn’t date. These rules enforcing secrecy also made me feel shame, that just my existence is so terrible that no one should ever know.

One time a friend from out-of-town wanted to visit Temple Square. At the time I worked at the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo and a co-worker of mine offered to drive us up on a Sunday.

We arrived in Salt Lake City, parked, and were walking towards Temple Square when a big Pride Parade came by. There was no one on the sidewalks but the three of us. Folks in the parade kept calling out, “come join us.” We stood there watching this parade in amazement until a TV crew came walking towards us. Scared we would lose our jobs at the MTC and get in trouble with the BYU Honor Code office if we were shown on TV at the Pride parade, we hastily retreated.

To see the 1,500 or so participants who showed up to walk next to the BYU campus displaying their colors brought a lot of emotions to my heart. The world is safer for queer BYU students than I thought would ever be possible. And more progress will happen, I’m certain of it. The Church and BYU cannot stop this wave of love and acceptance.

————————————————————

I took an 18-year-old to his first Pride

It was also my first time at St. Pete Pride, which is Florida's Largest LGBT Pride Celebration.

A panromantic-asexual friend from church asked if I would take him to Pride. As we drove towards the waterfront park where the festival is held, he was excited to see lots of businesses and buildings displaying rainbow flags. We saw streams of people with various Pride flags and brightly-colored hair and I said, “These are our people.”

June is hot & humid in Florida, I knew I wanted a hat for some protection, and I decorated it with flowers in rainbow colors.

I’d gotten him a flag to wear as a cape, pan and ace pins, and we bought a few things from vendors including rainbow bracelets. It was fun to be with him, to share his enthusiasm, everything is new to him. He wanted to see it all, to thank the DJ, to tell everyone how great they are, and he petted all the dogs.

————————————————————

Sunday Supper with Dad

The final Sunday in June, my dad asked me to have dinner with him. My mom was out of town and he was lonely. He prepared turkey with all the fixings. We sat down to eat and he announced it’s still Pride month and this dinner is to celebrate, and he’s proud of me, loves & supports me.

No one in my family has ever even acknowledged Pride. It was a huge shock to me he said that. Slowly, with small steps, my family moves towards acceptance and validation.

#pride 2021 #David gets personal

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wherearemyglassesbro · 4 years

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Omg omg omg omg everyone be quiet right now thank you @heyheyjay for THIS

For starters, it would absolutely have a very negative effect on Fran’s relationship with Arthur. He’s aware it’s irrational and his feelings are based on personal issues but having his rival/friend/lover defend a murderer? And have that murderer get away? Oh no, Fran would probably not talk to him for awhile after. Not because he’s mad AT Arthur, he just has to sort out his own feelings. He’s a complex guy and his feelings are like balls of colored yarn all tangled together. He has to take time to sort it all out and come to a conclusion. “I am not upset with you. I am upset with the outcome of that trial. I would like for us to go back to being friends again...If that’s alright...” he’s still closed off for awhile but eventually, he’ll open back up and go back to normal, the incident not forgotten but forgiven

The first two times Arthur saw Francis in a murder trial setting were VERY different. The first time, he was still somewhat of a rookie. He had gone up against Francis twice now in court and won both times. Now he wanted to study his way of speaking, his organization, his body language, that kind of stuff. So he sat in the crowd, off to the side out of the field of vison for the prosecutors booth.

Francis carried himself the same as usual. Confident and proud, speaking passionately on behalf of the victim, appealing to the jury. He did everything by the book and to be honest? Arthur was impressed. It was different watching him from the crowd than it was from the defense booth.

When Francis lost the trial, even Arthur was shocked. He watched him stiffly pack his papers away and leave the courtroom in a hurry. It was strange behavior for sure, something that he’d never seen before. Instead of his classic smile, he sported a frown and a look in his eyes that Arthur couldn’t place. To be nice, he caught up with him in the hallway “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to but I want to let you know, you did fantastic in there. I don’t know how on earth you lost that-“ “Leave me alone, Kirkland” Francis all but shoved past him, making a beeline for his car. Arthur could hear the squeal of his tires from inside the courthouse

That was not the loud, extravagant Francis he knew. That was someone else, someone sad and angry...Maybe Francis was more complex than he thought (Spoiler alert: Yes. He is)

The second time he witnessed a loss, he was far closer with the Frenchman. He knew his mannerisms and his body language. The two were teetering on the edge of being in a relationship or just being super close friends. Francis didn’t want Arthur to go to this trial but he insisted “It’s my day off. I’ll come support you and we can go to lunch afterwards. No big deal. I like seeing you in court” Francis was reluctant but had him sit in the second row anyways for moral support

Again, he did everything right. Arthur was criticizing the defense in his head ‘you dolt, you’re talking too much. It’s giving Francis the upper hand’. Of course he wanted Francis to win. Even as a defense attorney himself, he knows a guilty face when he sees one. He’s once again shocked when Francis loses

This time he notices how his hands shake, clenching and unclenching. There’s tension in his shoulders, the mask of confidence gone from his face. He was fighting to suppress a frown, swallowing around the lump of guilt in his throat

Francis apologized to his clients when the court was released, hugging them and shaking their hands, promising paperwork in the mail....yadda yadda. Arthur noticed how tired he looked, the way his shoulders now sagged in defeat

“You did great out there love” “I don’t need your pity, Arthur” “I’m not pitying you. You did everything right” “Apparently not”

Arthur led him to the parking lot, cupping his cheeks when they were out of the public eye “I know how it feels to lose something big like this. It stings, I know. However, it isn’t the end of the world”

“‘It isn’t the end of the world’? Are you kidding me? You’ll never-! Forget it. I’m going home” “Francis? We were-“ “I don’t care about lunch” and with that, he got in his car and sped off, tires screeching once again

Arthur is invited over for dinner later on, Francis apologizes for the way he reacted and Arthur assures him that it was no big deal. He expresses his emotions differently than Arthur does and he is still getting used to it! And this is Francis’s first relationship since Jeanne so he’s still re-learning how to open up about more serious or intense feelings. There’s a learning curve for them both.

So I also I think I’m gonna talk about Jeanne again cause I WAS gonna have a single post dedicated to her effect on Fran and Art’s relationship but I think lll....Just go over it here. There is a small fic at the end but I can’t even really call it that, it’s 2 paragraphs of text lol so yeah :)

More under the cut cause this is getting long and I feel bad clogging your dashes :0

So Art knew about Jeanne before he really knew Francis personally. Before he goes up against prosecutors, he asks Eliza about them and their argument styles, stuff like that. She advised him to stay away from murder trials if Fran managed to get his hands on one and since he didn’t know about Jeanne he was like ‘pfftt what? You think I can’t take him?’ And she was like ‘No...He can’t take you’ oh...

Eliza told him like...The bare minimum. Francis’s girlfriend was killed behind a small party store and he was the one who discovered her body. That’s all he knew about it

But when he and Fran started to get serious relationship-wise Francis decided to sit him down to have a talk with him, pouring his heart out to him after a long, draining day at the courthouse:

// Uhhhh tw for the rest for death mention and description of finding Jeanne after her death. Like...blood and all so if that makes you uncomfortable: this is your warning :0 //

“We dated for five years. From eight grade to twelfth...It was like we were joined at the hip. We were always together wether it be baking in the kitchen, studying at the library, going to the movies or attending church camp. We did it all together. Hell...In highschool, we were voted ‘cutest couple’ every year. She was my date for every school dance and she would have been my prom date too if... If she had lived” Francis choked out a sad laugh “She had the most beautiful dress picked out and I had a suit to match. She was so excited about it...”

“That day was my nightmare. I relive that day over and over again in my dreams, thinking about everything I could have done to prevent that outcome. I should have taken her to the store earlier. I should have gone in with her. I shouldn’t have answered the phone and gotten distracted when my friend called. She was in there for forty minutes just to grab some streamers and a bag of candy for a piñata... When I went in to look for her she wasn’t there. I looked around, called her name, called her phone...no answer. The cashier helped me look too as I started getting worried. In the bathrooms, the stock room, the janitors closet, behind the refrigerators...All that was left was the rear exit. She didn’t go out there right? No...that was unlike her...” tears started to slowly make their way down his cheeks “When we pushed the door open, I remember seeing the pool of blood right there on the ground and thinking it was just a puddle. How wrong was I. My legs moved on their own, I rounded the corner and there she was. Her hair was covered in blood from the gash across her temple, her favorite floral blouse ripped and dirty. Her purse was gone. She was just laying there on the dirty, cold asphalt” Francis shook his head, rubbing his face as the memory replayed once more

“Out of the corner of our eyes, the cashier and I saw the perpetrator and he chased him down, catching him and sitting on him until the police arrived. I called them...I don’t even remember making the call but I distinctly remember them telling me not to touch her- not to mess with the ‘evidence’. I didn’t listen. I sat in the pool of blood and held her until the ambulance arrived, petting her hair as she slowly went cold in my arms...Praying that just maybe she’d make it. They were too late. I was too late.”

“What was it all for, you ask? That evil son of a bitch wanted her money. She only had $10 on her that day. He killed her over $10! And after all of my pain, her family’s suffering, that fucker got to walk free after two years? Two years! It isn’t fair at all. I don’t mean to ramble too much but before you and I become anything too serious I just- I need you to know about her. She made me who I am today, she’s the reason I practice law, she’s always here with me” he clutched his cross necklace in his shaky hand “Just because I still love her does not mean I love you any less, Arthur. I will always be here for you but at the same time, I will be there for her. I’ll still visit her grave and her parents...I’ll have her picture on the mantle...”

Arthur reached out to rest a hand on the blond’s arm. This was a new side of Francis he hadn’t seen before. Sure he knew about Jeanne by now, he had seen her picture in Francis’s apartment. He knew the other took the two hour trip up north to visit Jeanne’s grave and her family every other month. He knew she was important to him but he had never heard the full story like this before. He truly didn’t know the extent of the damage that day had done “I understand, dear. If Jeanne is important to you, she’s important to me. She’ll always have a place here with us” he assured, pulling Francis in to hug him against his chest to let him cry “I don’t think I can begin to express how badly I feel for you. But you can always confide in me, I’ll be here because I lo-like you a lot. I want you to be open with me. This...is a lot to bottle up” Francis nodded and wiped his eyes as Arthur brushed his curls out of his face “If it isn’t overstepping any boundaries, maybe I could come up north with you next time you go to visit her?”

“I...I think I’d like that. I’ve already told her and her family about you. I’m sure they’d love to meet you”

———

Well I hope that wasn’t bad! I haven’t written in a fic format in uhhh hehe a year or so so...yeah! Anyways! Yup! That’s all for now :) ❤️ thanks for reading this far if y’all did!!!!

((Looking back I hate the formatting of the ficlet thingy but tbh there’s not much I can do about it now :) ))

#lawyer au :)#aph england #aph france #Fruk #I feel bad putting this in the h/talia tags so uhhh....yeah #I only used those three for blog navigation so...sorry :)#anyway!!! this was a lot of fun!!#enjoy the word vomit ❤️😄

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 4 years

Text

The Pact - Part 6

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic.

A big big thank you to my bestie @kazosa for not only keeping on me to write more of this story, but also for being my beta, my cheerleader, and all around amazing human.

WC: 5K

Series Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Players: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased)

Series Warnings: 18+ only, mild language, violence, implied smut

The sun rose over Lawrence on a typical Tuesday morning. A familiar sound woke Sam, something he heard every Tuesday morning--the melody of the tower bells summoning the Winchester guard to court. Normally, they didn’t ring until later in the morning, but their early clanging roused a reluctant Sam from a deep, painless slumber.

When his eyes finally fluttered fully open, he slowly rolled his head to the side, knowing he’d see her there, but this morning was different than any other before it; this morning, she would wake up and truly be his wife. His mind recalled the night before, and into the early hours of that morning, rolling around on the floor, making love to the woman he was supposed to despise. The corner of his mouth twitched into an awkward smile as he thought about how she moved her body with his, how she opened up and let him take her. There was a manner of uncontrolled passion that erupted between them, and even then, he was getting hard thinking about it.

The bells rang again, along with the Horn of Gabriel, a much deeper tone that stood out over the sound of the melodic chimes. Sam furrowed his brow, knowing this meant for the guard to assemble quickly. He wondered if there was news from the front lines… from Dean. He looked at his sleeping bride with a last longing look, taking special notice of how her hair spilled out on the pillow around her. Resisting the urge to brush a finger against her cheek, he threw off the covers and didn’t think of his hip once as he put his feet on the floor and moved about his chambers to dress for the day.

Just as Sam fastened the last button on his shirt, he heard (Y/N) stirring from behind him.

“Samuel?” she spoke, half asked in a low, sleepy tone. “Where… it’s so early.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and pulled the blanket up to her collarbone, covering her naked breasts.

“Rest,” he tutted. “It is early. I need to go to court, the bells are calling the guard. I’m going to check it out, but you can go back to sleep.”

“No,” she said and sat up further in the bed. “I’ll go with you, we should present a united front.”

“I appreciate that, (Y/N), but your presence there would be questioned, even by my father. I promise to take it all in and report back.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand for a moment before he spoke. “I’m not trying to leave you out, I swear. I just--”

“It’s fine, Sam. I understand. I just wanted to be there to support you. Dealing with your father can’t be easy.”

“Since he has seen us playing along with whatever their plan is, he’s been surprisingly pleasant,” Sam said, a small tinge of sarcasm coating his tone.

“Well, he’s getting what he wants. Of course he’s going to be kind.” She paused and gave his hand a little squeeze in return. “Sam, about last night. I--”

A deep, penetrating knock rapped at the door, interrupting her and causing both their heads to snap around. Their eyes met in a questioning glance before Sam released her hand and walked towards the door.

“Sam!” She whispered hoarsely but sharp to gain his attention. “Your cane… appearances and all that.”

“Good thinking,” he said, half embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of that. He scooped up the now unneeded crutch and went to open the chamber door.

As he pulled it open, a member of the Winchester Guard was standing at full attention.

“My Lord, your father, the King, requires your immediate attention. He needs you to come to the War Room without delay,” the guard rambled quickly, causing Sam to shake his head and lend a soft smile at the man.

“Slow down… what’s wrong? Why are the Court bells ringing so early?”

“Please, Lord Winchester, your father… he--”

Sam could see the unsettled look in the guardsman’s face and knew that something was definitely happening. He drew in a steading breath and patted the man on his ironclad shoulder.

“Let me finish dressing. Something tells me I need to be prepared for anything,” Sam said more to himself than to the guard.

“I would say that’s an accurate assessment,” the guardsman replied in the same manner, but Sam could hear the slight tremble in his words before he closed the door, blocking the man’s view into their chambers.

Sam leaned his cane near the entry, this way he wouldn’t forget it on the way out. He then made a mental note that he would also have to remember to add his now healed limp back into his entrance to the War Room. His mind began to race at what could be so urgent. It must be about Purgatory, as that was all his father had been concerned about lately. Well, that, and Sam’s ability to produce an heir.

Sighing deeply Sam sat on the edge of the bed and studied (Y/N)’s face as she did the same to him.

“You’re very troubled, husband. What could possibly be so dire that you have to run to Court at the very minute of daybreak?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, still buried in thought and growing concern. “But I plan on finding out. For now, I think you should stay here. Don’t wander today.”

“Okay, if you think that’s for the best.”

Sam’s head snapped up when she agreed so easily. “What? No fight from the Mistress Macleod? I’m shocked.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and crawled out from beneath the covers, either unaware or unphased by her vulnerable nudity and positioned herself right beside him. “I’m a Winchester now, remember? And if my Lord husband asks me to do something because he thinks it's best, then I shall grant his wish.”

Sam’s dimpled smile lit up his face, knowing that she was being half truthful and half sarcastically playful. The urgency to leave for the inevitable meeting with the King his guardsman loomed over him, but he was having difficulty pulling away from her and leaving her alone in the bed they just shared. He allowed himself his own moment of vulnerability and let his fingers slowly wander up the silky flesh of her arm, tracing his finger across her collarbone and up to her cheek.

“Thank you.” His voice was rough and low, but she didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, she placed her delicate hand against his stubbled cheek.

“Go, before he sends another Guard rapping,” (Y/N) chuckled, then leaned forward and kissed his lips tentatively. Sam returned her kiss and knew that if he didn’t stop then, his father would quickly be forgotten and he would be tangled up in her all over again.

With a grunt of frustration, Sam stood from the bed and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair by the fireplace. He could still feel the heat of the fire from the night before and smiled at the memory of how they enjoyed it for the entire night. One last look back at the woman now laying in his bed, and he left the chambers to see what fresh Hell awaited him in the War Room.

Every step towards the War Room, Sam could feel his nerves growing and vibrating beneath his skin. The tension was buzzing so loudly in his head, he was having trouble streamlining his thoughts. Luckily he had remembered to grab his cane on the way out, but halfway towards his destination, it finally registered that he needed to add in his now gone limp. By the time he reached the hulking wooden door that led to whatever awful things awaited, he was back in the habit of babying his hip; but not because he physically needed too, whatever (Y/N) had done the night before was holding strong and then some.

Drawing in one long, deep breath, Sam pushed the doors open and used his sharp eyes to survey the room the second he stepped in. To the left were his father’s top advisors, including Bobby and Pastor Jim from the Church of Lawrence. To the right of the room were a dozen or so of the Winchester Guard, standing at attention and waiting for any order the King may decree. In the middle of the room, the ancient table that mapped out the lands for hundreds of miles--including the Elven Woods and the entrances to Purgatory--was set with various pieces representing the Winchester’s army and their current battle plans. Sam noticed another set of pawns added to the table. They were black forms dotted with bright spots of bright crimson. Sam’s gut took a dive as he realized those markers belonged to Crowley’s army of demons.

Looking up, Sam finally noticed his father’s form standing in front of the raging fire, whose snap and crackle was the loudest sound in the room. John was free of his usual Royal garb, and instead dressed in a simple pair of denim pants and black long sleeved shirt. One arm was stretched all the way out, leaning against the stone mantle, while the other hand was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Dad,” Sam spoke tentatively, carefully studying his father’s slumped shoulders and lowered head, “what’s going on? Why are you calling court so early?”

John stood motionless for what felt like an eternity. When he finally turned and met his youngest son’s eyes, Sam was taken aback by what he saw in them. The normally stoic, no nonsense King of Lawrence, had wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes that made him look as though he had been crying.

Sam’s gut swelled with sickness, as he considered what could be so bad that it would cause his father to show such a surge of emotion in front of anyone, much less the highest ranking members of his Kingdom. Words were stuck in his throat as he continued to stare at John, unable to force anything more than a trembling breath to expel from between his lips.

“Samuel…” John’s rough voice finally broke through the silence of the room. “I have news from the front lines.” He paused and stood tall, lengthening himself to full height, but still not as tall as the son he was staring down. “It’s your brother, he--”

“Dean? Is he okay? Is he… dead?”

John opened his mouth to speak, but another voice chimed in before the King could answer.

“Come on Sammy, you think I’m gonna let a few Purgatory sonsofbitches take me out?”

Sam whirled around on one heel quickly, a move that would have certainly left him in agonizing pain before (Y/N)’s treatment. He didn’t even think of it, because the voice belonged to his brother, who was now standing right behind him.

“What? No hello for your big brother?”

“Dean,” Sam breathed with a relief sigh, “You’re alive!”

Sam was stunned to see Dean. Speechless, he stared at his brother, trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was real, and not some fever dream. Bruised and battered, Dean stood before his younger brother, his patented smart ass smile plastered across his face and his arms outstretched, palms up, and shaking his head. “Well of course I am. Damn, it's like you have zero faith in me... Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam snorted and rolled his eyes and took the last few steps to embrace his brother. Dean didn’t hold back and hugged Sam just as tightly, smacking his back to accentuate his joy at their reunion. When they finally parted, they gave one final nod of acknowledgement; they’re way of saying, ‘yeah, I’m okay’ without having to actually say it.

“Dean’s return from the front lines is certainly cause for celebration, don’t you think?” John said loud enough to capture the attention of the room. “And now that Samuel is married, on the way to producing an heir, both my sons are on track to fulfil their destinies. If that isn’t a good enough reason to call an early Court, I don’t know what is.”

Sam watched John’s face transform into a grin, but he could feel no genuine happiness radiating from it. There was something else behind his King’s mask that Sam could feel instead… guilt, fear, regret… he wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it, but he knew that his father was hiding something.

“I called this early court because I wanted to discuss a few things before we got down to real business. There is to be a big celebration--”

“Celebration?” Bobby interjected from the shadows. He stepped into view and adjusted his cap nervously. “I don’t mean to barge in here, but, John… c’mon. Now is not the time--”

“Bobby, please. There has been so much blight and pain in the last few years,” John said, then paused to adjust the hint of a smile to appear more heavy than happy. “With Sam’s marriage, and Dean’s return, I think it's appropriate to let the people rejoice for once instead of mourning their loved ones who don’t come home.”

The room fell completely silent. Sam watched as his father starred down the old Maester, and could feel the tension fill the air. Bobby flicked a quick glance Sam’s way--only the briefest of looks--but Sam knew exactly what it meant.

Tread easy boy...

Sam cleared his throat. “I think a celebration is in order,” he agreed, then paused before continuing. Sam was trying to appear diplomatic and act in accordance with his father’s wishes. He didn’t feel a party of any kind was proper, but, if he could find a way to use this to his advantage, he would do what he had to. “I mean, it's not every day my brother returns in one piece. And my wedding wasn’t exactly the happiest of occasions. Now that some time has passed and (Y/N) and I are embracing our commitment, I think a party is a great idea.”

“I’m surprised at you, Sammy,” John snorted. “I thought you, of all people, would be fighting me.”

“No dad, I’m done fighting you. I am here to fulfil my duties and take on the role you need me to take on. Just like Dean did in Purgatory…”

Murmurs of agreement began to radiate from the guardsman that had gathered. Sam noticed John’s demeanor change, and could feel how rigid the King had quickly become. He knew he could leave it there, just agree with John and let it go. But something in his gut told him to push it further, twist this to his favor…

Sam grinned knowingly at John, which seemed to throw the King off even more.

“For the return of my brother. For the joining of Winchester and Crowley lineage--” Sam heard Dean audibly react to the name Crowley, but Sam didn’t chance a look back. Instead, he held John’s dark eyes and twitched another satisfied smirk. “--and for the battles we are fighting in Purgatory against Eve’s most terrifying monsters. Like my father said, it's time to raise a goblet in good cheer, instead of in mourning. So, let’s throw a feast and raise a cup of ale to ‘We, the Hunters and Protectors of Lawrence’! To all of us, those who fight and those who WILL win the fight every day that it rages on!”

The Winchester Guardsman in the room erupted into shouts and cheers just as Sam had hoped they would. The King’s grin expanded, showing off his deeply dimpled cheeks and his perfect teeth. Yet when Sam watched him, he saw nothing but contempt in his father’s eyes.

“All right, all right…” John said in an authoritative, deep voice that immediately quieted the room. “There are still matters to discuss at hand. Yes, we can celebrate, but first, we must strategize. I need to speak with Bobby and Pastor Jim. We will reconvene later to hear what Dean has brought us from the front lines.” John paused from addressing the room and turned to Sam. “Sam, for now, why don’t you take Dean to meet your lovely bride. It’s only right he meets the newest member of our family.”

Sam turned to Dean, who nodded swiftly. “I think that’s a great idea. Would love a chance to catch up with my little brother here, and his new wife. Did I hear correctly… she’s a Crowley?”

“Macleod, actually,” Sam corrected. “But yes, let’s leave the King to his business. You and I have some catching up to do.”

“Dude,” Dean rasped and swiped a smack to the back of Sam’s head. “You married a Crowley?! What the HELL were you thinking?!”

“Dean, relax. First of all, it wasn’t my idea. This was all dad,” Sam scoffed as he walked slowly through the maze of stone corridors leading to his chambers. “Trust me, I was NOT on board at first. I fought dad on this tooth and nail.”

“But yet…” Dean huffed as his arms animatedly waved in front of him, as if he was calling someone safe a home plate.

“Look…” Sam turned and made sure Dean stopped before crashing into him. “I hear you, okay? Don’t think for a second that I went along with this easily.”

“So why did you go along with it at all? He got you brainwashed?”

“No, I just realized that maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

Dean choked on whatever words he wanted to say and just stared at his little brother.

“Also,” Sam started then turned and kept moving towards his room, “She’s not a Crowley. Crowley is… Crowley. (Y/N) is Crowley’s daughter.”

“Oh, well, that makes it sooo much better,” Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed Sam’s shoulder to make him stop walking.

“Dude, stop for one second… please, explain this to me. How did this happen?”

“Dad told me it was up to me to produce an heir. Your place was on the front lines. Since I am the resident gimp and can no longer fight, my role is to make him a grandpa.” His tone oozed contempt. “Apparently him and Crowley made some sort of deal. We bind our two families by marriage, have a child, and dad gets reinforcements of Crowley’s minions at the front lines of Purgatory.”

Dean snorted a sarcastic laugh. “Right, because demon deals always work in our favor.”

Sam shrugged unsure of how to answer him. Dean was right, demon deals never ended well for the Winchesters. They had centuries of family history donning the castle walls proving that. He turned to start walking again, but once again, Dean made him stop.

Sam could see the shift of Dean’s focus was going somewhere else, so he didn’t argue. Instead, he waited for his older brother to arrive at whatever point he was trying to get too.

“Let me get this straight, because none of this makes sense. Dad wants you to produce an heir with a blood relative to the King of Hell?”

“I know, it seems insane.”

“No, what’s insane, Sam, is that you agreed to it in the first place. Why would you say yes to that? Especially since Crowley is the one who killed Jes--”

“Dean!” Sam barked, loud and with enough assertiveness to make Dean slightly recoil. “I know. Okay, I get it. Maybe it will turn out to be the worst choice I could have made. But when I agreed to it, I had a plan. I was going to kill her to get back at Crowley. Take the life of his daughter as revenge for Jess.”

“Okay… and? Apparently she’s still alive, so what’s stopping you?””

“The plan has since changed. (Y/N) isn’t who I thought she would be. Dean… she’s…”

“Oh God…” Dean buried his face in his palms. “Sammy, don’t… don’t tell me you already knocked her up.”

“No!” Sam

“Ok, good. Because the last thing I need to worry about while slaughtering vamps and ghouls is you playing house with a literal demon spawn.”

“Just meet her, okay. She’s… different.”

“Oh, you mean her eyes don’t glow red and her body isn’t filled with black smoke?”

“No, they don’t. She’s human, Dean. She’s not a demon. She’s human. Though, she’s got some serious knowledge when it comes to magic.”

“Magic? Like… magic, magic?”

Sam nodded and desperately wanted to back up his words by showing his brother how (Y/N) had healed his hip. Instead, he decided to wait. Dean would need more than that if he was to be convinced that (Y/N) was on the level.

“Man, I go away for a year and all Hell breaks loose, literally. So what is the real plan here, Sammy? Because even if the girl is legit, you agreeing with dad leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Dean, just breathe, okay? I promise you, it will all be okay.”

Once Sam left for the War Room, you laid back against the pillows and drew the blankets up to your chin. Fighting the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, you closed your eyes and couldn’t help but think about the night before, spent tangled up with your new husband in the tapestries and sheets. He was an amazing lover; from the moment he had first kissed you, until the moment you fell asleep, he attended to every part of your flesh with a gentle, yet fierce longing you didn’t know could exist.

Not one part of you wanted to want him. In fact the internal struggle that raged between your head and heart was raucous and frustrating. As you lay there with your eyes shut, your hand went to the place between your breasts where the vial of potion normally rested. It was when your hand felt nothing there but your own soft flesh, that you sat up quickly and with force. Panicked, you began to remember more details from the night before.

In the recklessness of tearing at what remained of each other’s clothing, the vial on the thin cord must have been removed and tossed aside. You had a vague memory of realizing it the night before, but you had been too punch drunk and lustful in Samuel’s arms to do much about it then.

Kicking off the covers, grabbing at the robe that lay across the back of the chair, you threw it around loosely and fell to the floor in search of the vial. As you frantically searched the room, your fears were starting to grow that Sam would find it, and you would have to explain… too much. Suddenly fear struck you that he would think you used it on him; that the night you two had spent together was contrived and manipulated as part of your plan. Truth is, that is exactly what it had been for, but there was no need for it. You and Sam found your way to each other naturally and coming to terms with the fact that you didn’t hate it, was something else entirely.

Before you could begin to process that feeling, you had to find the vial. Rooting around on the thick shag throw rug and coming up empty, you moved to under the bed, silently praying you would find it easily. Minutes were passing as if you had all the time in the world, and still the vial seemed to have disappeared. Even in the mess of clothing strewn around the room, there wasn’t a trace of it.

Another panicked thought hit... Sam would be back soon. Too much time had passed now, and you weren’t dressed. If he arrived and found you still half nude in your robe, hair a mess and frazzled, an explanation would be necessary. Nothing that you could say would sound convincing, especially with the bond you two had been forming over plotting against your fathers. Sighing in relent, you got up off the floor and went to the chest where you kept your clothing and personal effects to choose something to wear for the day.

Not too long after putting the finishing touches on yourself, you heard the rumble of the chamber door begin to open. You drew in a steadying breath and turned from your reflection in the ornate wall-hung mirror, to greet your husband. Opening your mouth to speak, you were immediately silenced when you saw that Sam wasn’t alone.

“(Y/N),” he said, a hint of a secret smile on his face as he reached out to take your hand, pulling you towards them both, “my brother has returned from Purgatory. Dean,” he stepped aside so Dean could come forward, “this is my wife, (Y/N).”

Seeing the much-storied Dean Winchester in the flesh was a shock. He must have been the reason the bells were ringing so early on a Tuesday; the joyous news of his return must be making its way through the city by now.

“Wow,” you breathed “It’s wonderful to have you home, My Lord.” You bowed your head and gave the slightest curtsy, unsure of the proper greeting, but not wanting to offend.

“Is this chick for real?” Dean asked in a semi-hushed tone while elbowing Sam in the ribs.

“Shut up,” Sam bit back and shook his head with a snort. “(Y/N), it’s okay, you can drop formalities in front of my brother. He would rather go back to the depths of Purgatory then be called My Lord.”

“I dunno, kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean quipped, very amused with himself until he caught sight of his brother’s eye roll. “Fine,” he said, and turned his attention back to you. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N), I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, so I am sure you will have no trouble living up to the hype.” He flashed Sam another distrustful glance then looked back at you again.

This time though, you could feel the older Winchester brother’s scrutiny as it traveled down your body from your hair to your toes. He examined you quietly as if looking for the marker that would clue him into exactly who you were. Something about the way his green eyes watching you with such distrust made you nervous, as if he could see straight through you and know every thought that staggered through your mind.

“I’m happy to see you home in one piece, Dean. Sam has been very worried for your safety,” you said, trying to keep the nerves in your voice to a minimum.

Dean gave a half-hearted smile. “Well, he wouldn’t be Sammy if he wasn’t worrying about me.”

“And I suppose you worry about him the same.”

“I do. Which is why, if you try anything to hurt him, I can promise you they will never find your remai--”

“Dean!” Sam’s demeanor and tone said all his brother needed to hear.

“Alright, I get it. I don’t know you and I am already being a dick. What can I say, its who I am.”

“I would have you no other way,” you said, returning his half-assed smile. “I can promise you that I am nothing like my father. Crowley is an evil man with evil intentions, who sold me off to his enemy to be a broodmare. He thought I would be miserable, pained… angry. Yet, I take great pleasure in the fact that his plan has so far backfired, and I’ve come to find a wonderful, loving man in your brother. Sure, we had our issues, but I think we are of the same mindset.”

“Meaning?” Dean asked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching you carefully.

“Meaning… neither of us what to help fulfil whatever crap our fathers are plotting. Instead, we want to stop them. End the War. Bring everyone home.”

DEan scoffed. “End the War? Sweetheart, that war is just getting started. Nothing can end it, not even Eve’s monsters killing every last Hunter and Winchester to walk this Earth.”

“We have to try,” Sam spoke up, holding eyes with his brother, then glancing your way.

“And somehow having a kid is part of that?”

“It's what our fathers want,” you replied and shrugged. “I have no desire to be a mother. I didn’t even know my own. And, my grandmother, as much as she has taught me, wasn’t exactly a stellar role model.”

“So why the push towards family planning?”

Sam shrugged. “That’s what we are trying to figure out.”

Dean got quiet and began to slowly pace around the room. His hand thoughtfully rubbed at his mouth and down his chin. He didn’t look at you or Sam at all, but kept his focus on the floor in front of him. After a few moments, he stopped in his tracks and shook his head, as if to clear its thoughts.

“Could that be what they are doing?” he whispered as a question, but Sam wasn’t sure if it was directed to him or if Dean was talking to himself. “God I hope that’s not what she was talking about…” he trailed off, clearing not speaking to Sam now.

“Dean? What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

If Dean heard his question, he ignored it. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Can’t be… John would never…”

“Dean… dad would never, what?”

Dean’s piercing green eyes met with Sam’s then slowly made their way to you. “Sammy, I don’t… the things I heard on the battlefield… I doubt they’re true. But, still.”

“What is it, Dean?” Sam asked, both his impatience and temper starting to rise. “Tell me!”

“I think Dad and Crowley want to sacrifice your child to Eve.”

Series Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @silkiechicken / @collette04 / @katiecurls75 / @death-unbecomes-you / @colie87 / @roxytheimmortal / @klanceiscannon14 / @voltage-my2dlove / @flamencodiva / @xhannahbananax03

Sam Winchester: @buckyscrystalqueen / @unabashedsoul97

SPN (all): @wings-of-a-raven / @negans-wife / @kazosa / @deans-baby-momma / @hobby27 / @breereadsthings / @maddiepants / @sorenmarie87 / @screechingartisancashbailiff / @winchesterxfamilybusiness / @spnhollis / @unlikelygalaxyiver / @linki-locks11 / @stoneyggirl / @clarinette07 / @lefthologramdeer / @destielhoneybee / @faughnphotography / @katehuntington / @81mysteriouslyme / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @deathofmissjackson / @lauravic / @akshi8278 / @rebelminxy / @idreamofplaid / @fictionalabyss / @blackcherrywhiskey / @his-paradox / @closetspngirl

All Tag Lists are open! If you want to jump on any of these lists, send me an ask with your choice and I will happily add you!

#Sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester AU #Sam winchester x reader #Crowley's daughter #SPN AU #Gothic AU #The Pact Part 6 #The Pact

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nafeary · 4 years

Text

“Family Day”

⚬ Pairing/s: Theo/Reader, Vinart undertones

⚬ Characters: The. Entire. Cast

⚬ Word Count: 5,6k

⚬ Warnings: None!

⚬ Event: Theo Route Countdown Party [D-5: Prompt - Theo and Residents] hosted by the one and only @delicateikemenmemes

✧✎ Synopsis: Free days are supposed to be spent in the company of your loved ones, yet they are all busy running around somewhere. On top of that, it had been a busy week, tiring the art dealer considerably. But never fear! His surrogate family is prepared to use every measure to cheer him up... they tried to, at least.

✧✎ A/N: ughhh finally I managed to publish smth once again! School and moving has been very hectic, but I still managed to piece this together in celebration of Theo Week hosted by the most amazing, brilliant, beautiful, stunning, and thirsty hoe @delicateikemenmemes. This is such a self-indulgent piece (I love platonic relationships almost as much as romantic ones) so I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did~ make sure to drink water y’all!

Gadver...

He had thought nothing of it when King had demanded a walk at stupid’s hour. He had thought nothing of it when that golden retriever had suddenly run off. He had thought nothing of it when he had returned, accompanied by a little, and dare he even say cute, rabbit sitting atop his head.

But as soon as that thing had opened its eyes, one gleaming like gold and the other bathed in blood, Theodorus Van Gogh had wanted nothing but to scream.

The ball of hazel fluff gazed up at him, blinking it’s fatigue away (which was definitely not cute), apparent that it had been sleeping just before his dog had discovered it. Considering that the sun had barely peeked past the horizon, it was way too early for that two-faced klootzak to have visited the mansion... so why the actual fuck was his pet in their garden?

He had already made up his mind to just leave that thing there and to mind his own business, but King’s jovial shuffling and the rabbit’s unabashed manipulation—aka its not cute button eyes shining with mirth—were threatening to melt his iron resolve. Nonetheless, his folded arms remained powerful as he looked down at the two animals, his height only adding to his dominance.

“No, absolutely not. It’s my free day and I won’t entertain your incessant yapping.“ Not even his dog’s judgmental expression could waver his conviction; he took pride in his mental strength and stubbornness, after all.

“No, King.” He once heard a saying that pets always take after the owner’s personality... perhaps there was some truth to it, now that he witnessed his unwavering gaze.

“...No.” Would those two stop looking at him as if he was akin to a monster?

“Godverdomme! Alright! I’ll bring it back to that bastaard!”

As he beckoned King to follow him, Theo swore that he saw the bunny smirk in undeniable schadenfreude when his pet skipped past him in enthusiastic strides.

Truly, like owner, like pet.

When he returned to the mansion, two hours wasted just to cater to his dog and morals, he saw the resident physicist, shuffling rather awkwardly outside the former emperor’s room, obviously in peril. Before he could slip away to mind his own business, King took it onto himself to greet him.

The jolly skipped in big strides toward the slightly build man, who was already awaiting the impact with a horrified grimace, and he would have torn him down had he not shouted, “Volg Rechts, King!”

When the retriever dutifully returned to his side, unapologetically letting his tail run slaloms, he addressed Isaac, “He’s all bark and no bite, you know?”

“That sounds terribly like yourself.” Now, he might have grown used to Arthur’s British slang and accent, but even if the Lincolnshire voice was more than a little unique, he was still pretty damn sure that he heard that right.

Just as he was about to snap, a tuck on his pants made him turn to his orange furred companion, repeatedly nudging his glistening button nose into Isaac’s direction. It almost appeared as if the door was posing as one grande formula with how much it was being stared at by the scientist.

Sighing in resignation, he glanced at King once again, who sported the same guilt tripping expression he had had before. Of course, it didn’t take an Arthur to figure out what the Brit had been tasked with, but that didn’t compel him to his support. Formula weren’t his area of expertise, after all.

...Although, Theo did technically owe him for the fright his dog had given him.

“Want me to wake him up?”

Visibly startled by his stoic tone, Isaac whirled around. “Ah— Theodorus... you don’t have to. I was just...” he trailed off, tilting his head in a habitually manner as he fumbled with the apple-shaped pin in bouts of disquiet.

Grumbling in irritation, he replied in an effort to appeal to the contrarian, “You’re right, I don’t have to.”

He made sure to turn around completely, taking a few steps to show he took the naysayer seriously. And the Brit’s voice rang out not long after. “Wait!”

Theo regarded him once again, smirking slightly at his successful tactic.

“It’s— we were supposed to visit the children early today...” he said, twisting the tips of his coral hair. “But I am not exactly keen on waking him—for obvious reasons.”

“Move aside.” He clasped the shorter man’s shoulder, who spluttered at the impact of his scabrous tone which was not unlike the strikes of a mighty church bell. Nonetheless, a tiny gratitude found its way past his lips, sounding almost amusingly brittle.

Theo couldn’t help but grumble at his notion. “Don’t thank me, I have business with him, anyway.” This wasn’t a complete lie, as Napoleon had requested a favour from him—which he hadn’t voiced so far, however.

Isaac’s torso sagged in relief, dismissing the breath he’d been holding in, yet he was unable to meet the art dealer’s eyes—aware that this was a chore no one was particular fond of. Theo was about to tell him to halt his incessant twiddling; but yet again, he was probably trying distinguish the awkward fog that clung like cobwebs to the air.

Something about the atmosphere surrounding the physicist made him feel... disgustingly soft.

Perhaps he was a lot like Vincent, albeit rather brash, and he couldn’t shake off the urge to ruffle his hair—so he did just that.

“I’ll make sure to tell him to quit his puppy nap in favour of your appointments,” he told him, not particularly caring how Isaac would respond to his uncharacteristic action of affection.

As the door closed behind the Dutch, Isaac was unsure how to feel about the oddly pleasant gesture, but he supposed that it was a lot nicer than Dazai’s and Arthur’s quips.

“...thank you, I suppose.”

“Oy! Napoleon.”

“Napoleon!”

“Wake up, you—“ He managed to keep the ravaging profanities from leaving the confinements of his mind. A different strategy wouldn’t be unwelcomed... before he really went ahead and insulted the Nightmare of Europe.

Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, Theo ripped the blanket off the sleeping emperor, subsequently wrapping it around the source of assault—his hands and head—hoping it would buy him enough time to recoil.

The restriction didn’t seem to faze his flexible attitude; despite the thick cocoon of fabric hindering his hand’s movement, Napoleon somehow still rose to capture his cheeks, pulling him closer in a forceful grip. The kiss might have been interfered with the layer of blanket in between them, but the art dealer still shrank back, face unable to hide his affronted expression.

Of course, this wasn’t his first time—they all had to share this chore after all—but it was the first since entering a relationship with his... hondje. It certainly wasn’t helping that the French man was as skilled of a kisser as he was wonted to be.

“A blanket? That’s a new one,” the aforementioned French man, fully detangled from the blankets, mused, coming to stand in front of him to tilt his head. He couldn’t help the furious blush from colouring his complexion, and Napoleon’s nonchalance—and bare torso—were not helping the matter.

“You seem flustered? Are you—“ Without much warning, his mouth formed a teasing smirk. “I do hope your amoureuse won’t be too upset when she hears about this.”

“Hou je muil!”

There was no creature on earth that could resist Napoleon Bonaparte’s charms; indeed, even his own dog seemed to prefer the former emperor above his own owner.

“Well, thank you for letting us borrow King.” Napoleon’s typically-French adenoidal words broke through the quiet, crouching down to ruffle the golden fur “I’m sure the kids will love him, isn’t that right, bon chien? Oui, t’es un bon chien—”

Once Napoleon had ceased his agitating flirtings, he has asked him whether he could borrow King for the day. He would have asked Arthur, too, but apparently Sebastian had mentioned that Golden Retriever were especially children friendly.

The retriever barked with enthusiasm urging his tail to wag—did he just purr?

As Theo was contemplating the fall of his dog (who was being belly rubbed by Napoleon), he let his gaze drift toward the physicist sporting a rather odd expression, seemingly trapped between trepidation and uncanny interest.

Mayhaps, the perk portrayal awakened the abberant’s trust, longing to step past his walls of comfort.

“No problem, he does seem to like you a lot.” He crosses his arms, smirking slightly at his following act of shrewd scheming. “However, King’s mood does tend to deteriorate quite quickly”—a half lie—“so don’t feel pressured to take him, Isaac. Napoleon can take him for you, after all.”

Considering the fact the Isaac was probably smarter than most of them combined, he was entirely too ignorant and easy to influence, and, determination having turned the valve of unsettling panic tight, he grabbed the leash from his awaiting hand faster than his blossom orbs could perceive the starting position King went into.

“I never said I wouldn’t try to hold him—“ Before he could finish his sentence, King had already ran off, pulling the quiet physicist along; Napoleon laughed heartily before thanking him one last time and hurrying after his companion.

He was just about to push apart the heavy gates when the former emperor jogged up to him once more, halting his tracks. “Theo! It completely forwent my mind to tell you to go to the kitchens. Sebastian asked for you.”

His eyes stretched into slits. “Did he tell you why?”

But the demi vampire was already on his merry way, only turning back to grace him with one of his overly beguiling smirks.

It smelt delicious. Utterly delicious.

While Theo wasn’t planning on eating anything that morning, Napoleon’s instructions pulled him like a magnetic force towards a familiar, albeit original scent wafting from his destination. He heard the exchange of frantic foreign words, confirming his suspicions to the cause of the heavenly scent.

Announcing his entrance, he was immediately greeted by the two Japanese men—and the kitchen in an utter mess. They both sported aprons; while Sebastian proved himself to be ever the skillful butler, his apron more pristine than ever (suspiciously so), Dazai’s was almost fully dressed in pure batter and oil stains. He appeared not unlike the untidy room, which practically shined with all the fat sticking to everything its path.

As unsurprising as it was (he had long since discovered that there was no such thing as a normal day in the mansion), it still perplexed him when wondering what might have rendered him and their surrounding that sullied. “...Just what are the two of you doing?”

“Well, Sebas-chan mentioned that the modern Japanese have a treat called Fluffy Pancakes, so we’ve been trying to figure out the recipe.”

As alluring as his smile was, it was blatantly conspicuous. Sebastian regarded the author’s shtick with scrutiny, his brow twitching as he perceived the chaos. “Dazai-sensei... from what I can recall, you told me I’m not allowed to help you in any way, or to show you the recipe I’ve already created.”

Well, that explained the rather clean condition of his apron, and that of the other man’s and the kitchen’s. Dazai—who was by far not as talentless as certain residents—was nevertheless a walking disaster. His reputation as the mansion’s most haphazard and arbitrary was hardly at risk (especially as his most recent scheme entailed stuffing the entirety of Isaac’s room to the brim with apples).

Nevertheless, after having acquainted the Japanese man, sharing some common interests, Theo had been able to observe that he wasn’t as disastrous as he made himself out to be, but it was simply the way he liked his persona to be portrayed. Namely, running around in an attempt to improve other’s smiles while disregarding his being unable to reach his eyes.

Why he felt the need to act the part of as klutz was beyond him, and it wasn’t his place to pry into someone else’s past.

Some of the batter resting in the pan suddenly grew in size, forming a dangerous dome threatening to explode in seconds.

And it did.

Three hours. It had taken them three hours to clean the entire mess they (read as: Dazai) have fabricated—including the thirty minutes spent on persuading the author to drop his disastrous challenge.

Once they had finished the entire debacle, Sebastian had sent them to table, asking, begging, them to stay put while he made some actual, non-toxic pancakes. It left Theo in the companionship of the simpering klutz whom he just couldn’t seem to figure out. Many of his actions were contradicting, his mannerism a mix of contrasting impulses and reflexes. However, he was more than aware that he was no fool—not completely, at least.

Dazai could read people and situations just as well as he observed paintings.

It was nearly too convenient that Sebastian was busy making pancakes, despite having mentioned that he’d be preparing croissants the other day, when he was in a particularly bad mood after having almost submitted to the devil’s rabbit... especially if he considered that it had been Dazai’s idea and that Napoleon had ushered him there under the guise of their butler’s request (which he hadn’t feigned knowledge of).

He could have further inquired on his suspicions, or pointed out the dubious timing, but it wasn’t his battle to face. If the author did indeed go through all that trouble to hide his intentions, he probably wouldn’t want it to be remarked. For that, Dazai was much too genuine to bask in the attention of gratitude—that much he knew.

Silence reigned between them, yet he didn’t conceive it as cramped. It was akin to the humidity on a summer’s day, leaving him entirely at the mercy of the sun’s moods; in fact, it was a pondering kind of atmosphere that enveloped him, almost surprising Theo that Dazai simply closed his eyes, his everlasting smile brightening the room.

Whether his train of thought pointed toward the truth or not, he supposed that he was thankful either way.

Sebastian then joined them, carrying the two plates of fluffy goodness and an entire pitcher of maple syrup; it was a modest amount, but it should suffice.

Curiosity piqued his mind as the two Japanese clapped their hand together, wondering what their particular customs entailed. He’d noticed some of the more religious residents reciting silent prayers before their meals, but the men before him were the only ones from a more tradition-loving country. Certainly, the knowledge could help him encourage the trust of some possible foreign clients. As such he voiced his queries.

“...you want know of the protocol we perform before we eat?” At his reconfirming nod, the notebook idly resting on the table was quickly snatched by the butler’s hand, almost frantically writing into it. Dazai and Theo briefly looked at one another, knowing what the human butler was up to—most of the inhabitants were pretty much aware of the eccentric diary’s existence, but they preferred not to coexist with the idea of it.

If Sebastian had the tact not to mention their rather unpleasant first life experiences, they could let him entertain the impression of the diary’s stealth.

Chortling at his incessant scribbling, the simpering man eventually answered him, “We usually clasp our hands together and say ‘Itadakimasu’, which roughly translates to ‘I humbly receive’.” As he spoke with his tone laced with honeyed serenity, he reached into his sleeve to fetch a pen, drawing the stunning symbols onto a napkin. ”However, it isn’t meant to solely appreciate the food... we want to thank the farmers and nature for granting us the meal, too. I hope that satiates your inquiry, Theo-kun.”

It was a beautiful concept, for sure, making him wish that le Comte would have collected a larger variety of residents; he always perceived the convictions and perspectives of other cultures to be entirely too refreshing for the busy lifestyle of Europe.

Instead of answering the Japanese, he copied the joint hands of Dazai and Sebastian (who’d by then stashed the peculiar notebook away, smiling at the both of them). “Itadakimasu.”

Once he had thanked Sebastian (and by extension, Dazai) for the passable meal—although he supposed the fluffy clouds of dough melting together with smoky syrup and nutty butter were more than slightly passable—he made his way to his brother’s room, the great meal having boosted his mood through the clouds.

On one hand, he was rather perplexed that he hadn’t come across the hardworking artist yet, but he also had to ask how the commissioned pieces were coming along.

Just as he was about to climb the staircase to his floor, a certain plummy voice resonated within the hallway. “Theo. How has your free day been so far?“

Turning around to meet the owner of the mansion, he drove his hands into his pockets, shrugging slightly. “It’s not quite living up to its expectations, Comte.”

Le Comte simply smiled. “Vincent asked me to relay to you that he is currently out in town.”

While it was off-putting, the lord of the house’s ability to interminably determine the issues plaguing their minds came in handy at times. It saved him the trouble of having to seek him out himself. “Did he tell you why exactly?”

The count’s smile stretched into a wide grin, as if knowing that this particular piece of information would aggravate the business man. “I’m afraid he didn’t, but I do know that it must have been nothing too grim as he seemed quite elated by Arthur’s side.”

It wasn’t surprising to the art dealer that his brother was spending his time with the Casanova. Considering that Vincent did occasionally tag along on their late-night shenanigans, their friendship was purely based on either annoying or calming Theo—and nothing in between.

At least, that’s how he’d preferred it to be. Recently, however, they have taken to spending their time in shared companionship more often than just seldom. It rendered him both utterly perplexed and seething; the most gentle of all beings on earth, and an infamous Casanova, and never the twain shall meet. While the crime novelist was the closest he had ever considered a friend, the thought of his behavior possibly triggering his sensitive brother were plaguing his mind, causing steam to emit from his pierced ear shells as ire within him burned ablaze.

“Would you perhaps mind joining me in organizing Leonardo’s collection of Whiskey?” le Comte interrupted his fuming, his scheme to persuade him shadowed by his polite facade. “I’ve been soliciting for him to at least discard a part of it, but he’s been stubborn with the argument that he is but a stranger when it concerns determining the quality of each, so I deemed it appropriate to bring you alone.”

His chestnut eyebrows furrowed. “And just what makes you assume that I would want to help you out?”

“There will be a considerable amount of whiskey, of course.”

“Do I look like an alcoholic to you?”

“Certainly not, but you do seem rather penurious after the news I’ve given you.”

The Dutch’s cerulean eyes flashed at the count’s insinuation, the temperature dropping several degrees. It wasn’t that hatred obstructed his vision of his sire; in contrast, he was deeply grateful for having tided his way back to his brother, letting them live together, properly this life around. Nonetheless, he had his way with fueling the ire of his residents, especially to those that weren’t gifted when it came to French.

While they’ve all learnt to speak the lovely language at some point, many of them were still obscured by fog when it came to their sire’s rather gaudy vocabulary. Thus, while he might not know the entire meaning behind his words, his expression was a telltale to what fact he was alluding to—and he wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of assuming right when saying that the delivered news had gotten to him.

“Very well. It better not be disappointing—and I do expect that beast to be gone.” Taking a sharp pivot around to venture down the hall, the ailurophobe could say without doubt that le Comte’s orbs of molten gold had widened in surprise without sparing him a single glance, yet he was unaware of the contented glint shimmering within them.

Theo seemed to always expect the worst of him, and as such, if you were desiring to help the obstinate business man, you had to appease to his expectations without disregarding his obvious acuity. Shakespeare had sent a letter earlier this morning—speaking entire tales of gratitude for returning Puck unscathed—and he had immediately considered the possibility of the savior’s identity (and the darkening mood it might have caused a certain person). And what better way was there to a man’s tranquility than with a shared glass of amity.

Keeping to that scenario, he’d asked his dear old friend prior to ensure his feline‘s absence.

Le Comte stepped alongside the other man, and he could only simper as he was, once again, proven right. He could only hope Leonardo would keep to his end of the bargain.

It happened too frequently that the residents forgot the polymath‘s range of expertises; his aptitude for the arts were often overlooked when he stood alongside Vincent van Gogh, his discoveries neglected when talking about Isaac Newton. Perhaps, being regarded as the jack—no, master—of all trades did not come with solely advantages.

Not like the Italian minded all that.

“Are you going to stare at the painting all day? We have plenty whiskey to consume.” Leonardo was impishly sprawled on the floor, a lazy smile gracing his face as he arranged a stack of books beneath his head.

He had asked the Italian on multiple occasions to allow the display of his artwork; alas, he’d be incessant in waving him off, despite his obvious talent. Pioneering techniques of realism through the means of the revolutionary sfumato method, it was a shame to let his works go unpublished.

Certainly, it pained him to neglect such powerful talent, but he had accepted his obvious wishes long ago.

“I’ve just been wondering why you wanted this particular piece of yours,” he inquired, rolling his eyes at the polymath’s accusing frown, confirming that he wasn’t trying to pawn it off of him.

On the floor, turned onto its side in a haphazard attempt to get it out of the way, lay the Lady with an Ermine in all her youthful glow. Even his first life self had never been able to omit his marvels of this particular artwork.

When he joined Comte, the epitome of elegance completely out of place in the junkyard, at the tea table, Theo heard him say, “You have sent me through quite the tribulation to aquire this piece, yet you’ve never indulged me in your reasoning.”

“Well, you wouldn’t like my reasoning, at any rate.”

Gracefully crossing his leg above the other, the nobleman started pouring the golden drops—not unlike his own inquisitive eyes—into some glasses. “And what made you assume so, old friend?”

“Because I am certain that you do not favour yourself being compared to 16 year old adolescents, “Comte”,” he elaborated after a booming guffaw.

As they argued—ever so politely, in his eyes—Theo couldn’t help regarding their relationship as identical to that of a bickering couple. It reminded him to heavily of those evenings, spent with some vacant residents and alcohol, cackling at the prospect of the mother hen and their resident father acting as if borne for these roles. And perchance, there was more that some truth to their fatuous, going by the intimacy reigning their relationship (a past flame, at least?).

Theo averted his gaze and grumpily snatched the water pipette resting beside the bottle of one of the dozen of bourbons, not wanting to contemplate the romance involving the two men.

Since his most fateful encounter with the time traveling woman, he’d been exposed to ideas and concepts transcending his 19th century mind (Active protests against racism, commercialized public transportation, travelling durations having been reduced to mere hours between continents...).

One particularly controversial idea was much more toilsome for him to come to terms with—the rather incomprehensible topic of same-sex marriage and the general idea of being able to love whoever you want to—but she’d been entirely too understanding of his upbringing, patiently justifying her beliefs.

As open as he was to the concept at that point, the inclination of his brother having feelings for his best friend was no snip to process (he could practically see her crossed arms at his hesitance). He really was not keen on pondering his housemates’ love lives.

Leonardo, seemingly done with their pointless banter, rose to grab one of the prepared whiskeys. “If I remember correctly, this one was gifted to me by my family.” He downed the liquid without hesitation, not even the smallest shudder becoming cognizant. “Tastes just as horrid as them.”

Le Comte truly had a bias toward men with tragic childhoods.

...perhaps Comte wasn’t too far off with his accusation. He did really need that drink.

Mortifyingly enough, after they’ve put him through his eighths trial of whiskey, Theo had been the first one to surrender his tolerance, the two pureblood vampires still being able to converse sans any slight slurs or drawls. Were he on his quotidian bar strolls with Arthur, he’d have regulated his intake significantly more; be that as it may, the myriad of benumbing variations, and the inhuman intuition to know just the right amount of water to add made the whiskey persuasive in its case.

Three of his shirt’s unapologetic buttons had become undone in the overbearing heat the delicious tipple provided, and while stroking King’s luscious fur (when did Napoleon return with him anyway? And since when did he fit in his lap this easily), he overheard bits and pieces of the ongoing conversation.

“I believe it’s safe to assume that we’ve succeeded in relaxing him.” So his assumption was indeed correct. It wasn’t too startling that they’d all go to such lengths to please him; it was a wonted stratagem in their mansion, after all.

“...I’m afraid that won’t be perennial.” There he goes with his irritante French.

He heard some shuffling, followed by a quiet click—as tantalizing as it would have been to investigate these sounds, his eyelids were uncooperative as his lashes weighed them down with the power of a dozen horses.

“Getting the camera was an exceptional idea, it seems.”

“Cara mia proposed the idea to preserve moments like these. I can’t wait to find your vulnera—.” The chuckling brunette was interrupted by the livid Dutch, who had managed to sober up halfway only to full on glare at him. “Hey... you can’t call her that, zakkenwasser!”

A glimpse of the paper le Comte was holding made him stop, the photograph portraying a disturbing scene of himself holding Leonardo’s little demon.

He didn’t dare to check the actual identity of the animal in his lap—which was clearly not King.

Theo may, or may not, have screamed in absolute terror once he’d had the beady slits in his sight, and he couldn’t help but shudder as he saw the onyx fur sticking to every inch of his skin and clothes. He swiftly stripped out of them, deftly wrapping a towel around his waist before approaching the tiled entrance

Leonardo had bellowed in absolute amusement as he stroked the feline’s chin, while his sire could only manage to sent the slightest of reprimands toward the other pureblood, though he was unable to hide his own chuckles from falling from his usually well-mannered lips. He’d, of course, apologised in place of the actual perpetrator, and suggested him to indulge in the streams of the thermae.

As if he needed him to tell him that.

Nonetheless, Theo followed the count’s advice. Reflective droplets, commingled by the steam emanating from the entrance, ran along his tight abdomen where his entire vexation was building up. On one hand, he truly appreciated everyone’s efforts; cheering him up is one hell of a task—that much, he was aware of—but in the end, there were only three people in his life who could truly conjure serenity from the pits of his ire, and those were all busy running errands.

This only fueled his frustration further, and it irritated him more than anything else. Godverdomme! Just why did he have to be so incredibly difficult? Perhaps if he could find release—that thought almost made him choke on his own air. No, he’d let his hondje deal with his problem when neither of them were at risk of being disturbed.

Inhaling and exhaling thrice, he entered the thermae at long last, only to be greeted by two soft voices. Whereas one of them was undeniably French in nature, the nasal, albeit graceful high-pitch, enough to indicate that, the other was an ironic amalgamation of the softest lullaby and the most thunderous of compositions.

Mozart and Jean, the only residents who hadn’t had their attempt at improving (worsening?) his day, were lounging in the water. Theo could have bet his entire collection of artworks, without letting his pinky twitch, that Comte knew exactly that those two were here (considering they were probably the only ones to either consider it more profitable for them not to get involved, or to simply not care).

With an annoyed puff, he lowered himself into the tranquilizing pool, allowing the murky mist to grant him cover to unwrap his towel. As he did so, the musician to his opposite issued a histrionically deep sigh, amethyst orbs narrowing in repulsion as he became cognizant of some minor cat fur still sticking to his skin.

“And here I was hoping that Lackaffe wouldn’t send you here,” the man sneered, brushing some alabaster strands out of his piercing glare.

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

“Keep it fortissimo, would you?”

Feigning ignorance of Mozart’s comment, he spoke to his quiet companion, “How in the world can you put up with him?”

The French man only shrugged slightly, the motion prompting the lilac bangs to shimmer in the light. “Have you considered asking that Monsieur Doyle?”

He felt a drop slide down the side of his face as he shifted his eyebrow up. “What does he have to do with that.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the composer snarked, superciliousness guiding his lips into a full on smirk. “He’s alluding to the fact that you are just as vexing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me just right.”

“I’d just love to know who shoved that stick up your arse.”

“While it’s relieving to know that you can accommodate enough brain cells to learn foreign phrases, it is less surprising than you turning to these juvenile scatological remarks.”

“Oh, rot op. As if you are in the position to lecture me on my shitty humour.”

“—did you seriously just jet water at me?”

Jean sighed in resignation, wishing his friend could reign his hauteur for once at least; yet, the fracas they caused let the tiniest spark of amusement twinkle in his starless eyes. Despite himself, he did nudge the Austrian in an attempt to quieten him. Mozart, who wholeheartedly disregarded his warning, only continued to smirk, winking as he did so. Without omitting to fire another insult at their frontier, he merely directed Jean’s attention back to the Dutch, stupefying himself as he perceived the witty jocularity flowing through the air in playful currents.

Perhaps Mozart had been planning from the start to abandon their placid laissez-faire attitude. It was obvious they were both thoroughly enjoying their arguing, even if it made Jean want to burn his ears off.

Later that night, aquamarine eyes shone in the moonlight’s rays, revealing a scene of absolute love an affection for the entire canopy of stars to marvel at. His pannenkoek’s arms were wound around himself in a loving embrace, her nimble hands trying their best to cradle his head as he curled into her like a clockwork. Her melodic pulse induced him to ponder the day’s occurrences.

It had left him worn out, the energy of spending some amount of time with almost the entire residency such a rare event that it rendered him as tired as a bear before winter if it did happen.

She had giggled mellifluously at his drowsy babbling (“You really are just a giant teddy bear, aren’t you?”), letting her fingers dance in featherlight strokes down his toned back as she massaged him—partially for him, and partially because she had simply wanted to “feel him up” as she had mentioned.

Natheless, even if they tired him, aggravated him, or even made him want to move to an entirely different planet, their makeshift family was a huge array of multicolored and textured patches, which all came together to form one sui generis artwork.

A scream torn from a certain defenestration-loving bastaard, and multiple curses ranging from German to English later, left him grumbling once again.

As much as he liked their aloof painting, the colours were still fucking obnoxious.

Tag List of the most amazing sweethearts (who better be drinking some water *squints*: @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere

#theo route countdown party #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire scenario #ikemen scenario #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemen napoleon #ikemen mozart #ikemen leonardo #ikemen arthur #ikemen vincent #ikemen theodorus #ikemen theo #ikemen dazai #ikemen isaac #ikemen shakespeare #ikemen jean #ikemen comte #ikemen le comte #ikemen sebastian

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calypsoff · 3 years

Text

Sixty.

When Joyce was telling me how she has told Chris to go to church, I mean back home in Barbados, I would go to church, but it just came to me. We probably do need to go to church because all we get constantly is hate, especially Chris, I feel like bad vibes follow him a lot and it is because like she said, there is a lot of people that don’t like him. Imagine your own family wanting shit on you, those bad vibes can get you, so I decided to come to church, Chris was side eyeing me, he was like I am being dramatic, but I believe in it, I do think it’s right and with the baby coming, Chris going to court we need the luck because I do not want to lose Chris, I need god to help me through it. When I was with Rakim, I felt so lost and I turned to god, he blessed me with Chris. He bought the love of my life back and I feel like maybe we lost that by not going, by forgetting god “this is a cute church, so did you go here with your Sunday best yes?” Chris shrugged “I was forced to come here and I played up, my grandma would beat my ass and give me those looks to stop fucking around but it’s me so yeah, but I did come here until I went jail, after jail I didn’t go even though I could gone to the church in the jail, I just was hating everything, I was so angry at why, why me. Every nigga is dealing but why me, so I was hateful” I can imagine he was “well we going today so come” Rich and Frank got out of the car “mhmm, we will see if this blesses us” he is so negative, his ass “thank you” Frank opened the door for me, I slid out of the car with my ever so baggy clothing, I hate it but you never know, people do take sneaky pictures and I don’t like that so I rather be safe. Also with what I posted, people are guessing now, some believed that it happened. TJ’ son really made me excited, he was so adorable and kept patting my bump anyways.

Frank walked inside the church first, it is so eerily quiet, and I am glad it is, I hope nobody is here so we can get some peace. Walking inside and it’s silent, nobody is here. Frank just stood to the side, looking behind me. Chris is of course dragging his feet because he thinks he doesn’t need this, he does. Only thing you can hear is my heels hitting the floor “you’re very heavy footed” rolling my eyes, Chris is annoying “thanks” sitting down near the front but one back, shuffling along “church reminds me of Dolly so much, we had so many good memories with her” Chris sat next to me “do you not believe in god?” I had to question it because he is being negative “I do” he looked at me “then?” I asked confused with him “just you lose it when so much shit happens, is god playing with my life? Why is it I am always on edge, how is that possible. It just makes me think and lose that, I really do believe in it because he bought me you but now I am always thinking I will never get to see my kids grow, so that is it. God ain’t going to fix the fact I like your feet either” he is so annoying but I understand what he means “I am in no way preaching so let’s just sit here and think for a little, we both have things we need to think of” that is if Chris can keep quiet because he likes to play a lot.

I am proud of Chris, he remained quiet and had his head bowed down. He was thinking, the pastor finally came out. I fully expected him to be here earlier but no, he smiled at me “welcome” he spoke “thank you” Chris lifted his head up “not coming on Sunday?” he asked “I think we will be gone by then, this is Chris’ church more then mine” the guy smiled “I know him” he chuckled “Joyce’ boy” he made his way over to us “I am here if you need to speak, it’s nice to see you here today. Both of you, god is always with you” Chris sniggered “god is out here trying to kill me, like am I supposed to be here? Or is god teasing me with the good?” the pastor smiled and made his way closer to us “do you mind” he asked, I am going to keep quiet because this is Chris’ time not mine “no sit sir” he sat in front of us and turned to us “god will never give you something you can’t handle Chris, do you have good?” Chris nodded his head “yeah, I have the love of my life. My literal soul mate. I am sick and tired of feeling like I have to watch myself, like I want to live but I can’t” the pastor nodded his head understanding “son, it’s because you are losing faith. Once you start to lose faith, you start to feel scared. God can’t protect you, the fear you feel is the devil getting to you, the words you hear and fear you feel is what the devil wants you to feel. You’re letting the devil in more then god, bad times happens son. But you are reaping the bad with the good, stop thinking on the bad. Once you divert yourself away from the devil talk and listen to god, which is the good. You will see the difference. Tell me the good?” he asked Chris “married, going to be a father, moved out of VA, have my own business. I can get my parents their own home” the pastor smiled “and the bad?” he asked “losing my best friend out of this, being shot. Three times I kissed death, I been dead I know I was, then my family wishing death on me” he nodded his head understanding “the good outweighs son, if you lose people now then they aren’t meant for your new life and let them go. Let god in Chris” Joyce really knows her son, he needed this.

In the SUV going to see the house Chris chose, he got it because he likes it and didn’t even go to look at it. it’s out of the way from where he lives originally anyways “how you feel?” I asked Chris, he seems to be quiet “ok, he is right isn’t he. I let the devil speak to me, I think of that. I just need to think of the blessing I am getting, I can’t let the shit my family want to happen to me affect me. The best thing I can do for my parents, sister and nephew is move them from that place, the family that hate me can choke when they see this. Anyways I told them where to meet us, after the realtor is gone. This home is perfect. I just want to say thank you Robyn, like you been my rock. Even though we have disagreements, but you have my back, you’re supportive of me. Even though you know I am thinking of the bad, you’re there dragging me out of it. Also just allowing me to buy a home for my family, the fifteen million is both of ours and it was earnt mostly on your name” I cooed out, that is so sweet of him “Chris, what is money to me. I have what I want in my life. Your family treated me so well, Joyce treated me like her own. They were so good to me and I remember those things, you’re my husband. I want the best for you, I just don’t want your family to be harassed because it can happen, it did for mine in Barbados. Then you don’t have to worry” Chris smiled at me lightly.

Staring out of the window as we drove by homes, the area looks nice “are we here?” I asked, the car cut away and onto a drive “oh my god, is this the home, Chris this already looks amazing” the home is really big and remote “yeah, you like it. The only thing is that it is a five car garage space, and they have one but who cares” he shrugged but who cares, this looks so nice “I love it, it’s very VA. And the price tag on this is amazing, you know this would be millions?” I laughed, I laughed because it’s true because it’s six bedrooms too so that would be over a million” Chris really just bought it so he has to like it either way, Chris jumped out of the car, he didn’t even wait for the bodyguards to open the door, he is excited and I am excited for him. Rich opened the door for me as I got out, I am randomly feeling tired now “Mr Brown we have no had sale like this, where the person didn’t wan tot see it but you won’t find a single thing wrong with this home” walking over to Chris and the realtor “wow Rihanna” he didn’t even stop himself and said it “that is me” I laughed “nice to meet you” shaking his hand “oh yes, erm nice to meet you too” he is shook clearly.

I have looked through the whole home, this house is amazing. A dream home from when I was a child, I would be so jealous of people with nice homes. The home we had wasn’t bad but it’s tiny, it’s better then what Robyn came from but it’s just something I always wanted to do for them “here you are” pulling back the dining chair “I am tired, I don’t know why but what do you think? How is it? I really love it, see I can see us visiting here and staying here. I feel secure here too, it’s where I know if I don’t come with you that you will be safe here. I am so happy you have done this for them, even so if our baby comes here we can be happy about that. I don’t mind leaving it here for the grandparents to spend time with our baby, it needed to happen didn’t it?” my smile grew hearing Robyn say that “you would let our baby stay here?” I questioned, I had too “of course, I mean now they have moved to a much quieter and remote place. It will be safe for us to do so, it’s a shame they are here in VA but if we go on holiday we can” I like to know that Robyn would be happy to let our baby stay with my family “I think they are here Chris, excited” I clapped my hands “yes! I hid the champagne the realtor left us, I can’t wait” walking off to the door to meet my parents, they are going to think what the hell we doing.

Rubbing the top of my nephew’ head “you good big man? Come, come in” my mother is suspicious “there you are, I was about to say Christopher where is Robyn?” my mother cares for Robyn and that is it “so you renting this place now? It’s a little dead” my sister would point “yes well who cares, you should be blessed I even invited you to see the home Robyn and I are staying at” side eyeing my sister “boy shut up” she waved me off “oh my word, you look so well!” my sister yelped “wow, I wish I looked this perfect pregnant, I gained so much. I was a whale; my thighs were huge. You are glowing, oh my god” my sister complimented Robyn as they hugged “your sister is right, a little empty” my dad is noticing “so what, y’all always complaining. Look how nice the home is, let’s just think of that. Come” waving them over “calm down hyper aren’t you, you sister is talking to Robyn” oh boy here is Tootie taking up my time “it’s ok, Chris is excited. We can talk after” Robyn knows, I just want to say it to them “go on, what you want to show me” my mother gestured for me to walk ahead, I jumped walking ahead of them.

Walking to the back yard, seeing the pool and jacuzzi outside “look at this private land, and pool. What you think” turning to my family grinning “this is so cool, is you and auntie moving here?” Desean asked “auntie? Who that?” I asked all confused “Rihanna uncle” letting out an oh “yeah, no we not just you know seeing but what you think? It’s got six bedrooms and it’s private” Robyn slowly made her way over to me “it’s lovely son, I mean of course you both going to get the best home and we love it. Are you both going to tell us you moving here now?” my dad said with the biggest smile thinking I am going to say it “well I can tell you one thing we won’t be moving here but erm, this home. It’s yours, this home is for you mom and dad. I couldn’t be living the way I do and not have my family living good too” my dad’ face softened “what?” he said in disbelief “the home, everything. It’s paid for it’s yours” my mother looked around in shock “no way Chris, serious. This home!?” Tootie spat “oh my god” my mother of course cried “son, really?” nodding my head smiling “it’s yours, this is yours” my mother rushed over to me in tears “it’s yours, honest mom” hugging my mother close.

It’s crazy seeing my dad crying “I don’t cry, I don’t but this” my dad paused looking ahead “just” he put his head down “I always wanted the best for you kids, I am sorry if you felt I didn’t” shaking my head “no dad, you did a great job but it’s time you both just relax now dad. You are the best parents and I wanted to repay you both with this home” my dad smiled at me “we thank you son, we do. I get to be away with the negativity and just see peace, thank you. Thank you Robyn, I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter in law, you have healed my son and loved him when he needed the most. You blessed us, you have” my dad is emotional “wow, this is really our home now, so I get to have my own room when you come” I chuckled “yes, and then we can also stay over. Mom, I told you I would have you living good, I want to be here for you all” my dad placed his arm around me “thank you god, thank you son” he pressed a kiss to the top of my head “now I am going to need to buy you four more cars huh” my dad chuckled “mom please stop crying, it’s ok. And if you need anything at all, I am here. Robyn is right, this makes you all safe too and we can come here without issues, we want to stay with the family” my dad pulled me along as he made his way to Robyn “and I would like you both to stay with us” he also placed his arm around Robyn “I love you both so much, thank you to the both of you” Robyn cooed out “stop it Clinton” she said, my dad is so thankful but he really doesn’t need to be “Chris said it, he said he wanted to make his money and buy his family a new home, and he did it. I am so proud of him” putting my head down smiling.

#fanfiction #fanfic #chrianna fanfiction #chriannaff #chrianna ff #chrianna

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thisstableground · 4 years

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do you have any hcs for if usnavi's parents hadn't died? it would change him and his story a lot and I feel like it could be really interesting, how he's still him but with such different experiences. and you write him and get his character so well so you're definitely the person to ask about this kind of thing if you're up for it :) (also as a fellow brit the uk au is really really weird to me, I can't quite work out why)

(lmao ikr? i wouldn’t actually call it a uk au because i firmly do not believe it could work as a fully-fledged idea without changing way too much about a very culturally specific story in a way that has very uncomfortable implications, tho it is hilarious to briefly entertain the idea of ITH except it’s all set in fuckin milton keynes or something because Simply No Thank You)

THIS WILL BE LONG, BUCKLE UP

i think that a lot of canon usnavis traits are perhaps things he already had but that got magnified by a huge amount after losing his parents, because they could also be seen as ADHD traits; particularly the anxiety and the difficulty with making changes or starting new things. he’s still worried about messing up, about making a fool of himeslf, or just doesnt have the executive functioning to do things. but the difference is prior to losing his parents he had a lot more optimism and self-confidence to push himself past those anxieties or to find it easier to listen to his friends and family when they encourage him, because he has this certainty when he’s younger that things will turn out okay. an usnavi who never loses his parents carries that certainty into adulthood (i think even after abuela passes, because while it’s difficult and tragic for him, it isn’t deeply traumatising in the same way). so this version of usnavi still worries about failure, but the stakes are so much lower; he might embarrass himself but he has the safety net of his parents support, whereas the fear that fuels canon usnavi’s difficulty with changing things or moving forward is “what if i fuck up and lose someone else important to me again?”, where things which aren’t actually literal life-or-death tend to feel that way to him, and he’s a lot more cynical about whether things will have a positive outcome.

with his parents still alive doesn’t find it so terrifying to look into the future – “today’s all we got”, he says in the opening song, and i think he would still say that but in a way that means “live for today, live in the moment, enjoy life”. that might be the attitude he’s trying to get across in canon, but he also uses it as a way to hold himself back and keep himself stuck in place, to not let himself hope for anything in the future: in canon, he knows in a very painful way that he isn’t promised a future, and nobody he loves is promised a future, so why make plans or hypotheticals or even seriously believe that he’ll ever go back to DR? (i genuinely think there’s a subconscious part of him that’s firmly convinced he’s going to die young, but that’s a whole other tangent). he’s living in the moment because he’s scared of what he’ll see when he looks past it; usnavi with his parents still around lives in the moment because he likes the moment he’s in.

i wonder if him and vanessa would have ended up dating, or at least if they’d have been so successful and long-lasting as a couple. they’e always known each other and got on well, but i see their deeper feelings as growing out of this shared understanding between them based on the difficulties they’ve been through – would they have still had the champagne bet, if usnavi didn’t have that grief and loss and extra responsibility that drives his vague non-plans to go live in DR? would he even want to leave new york, in this version, or would he still be content with the place he grew up because it doesn’t have those painful memories?

the character arc of reconciling moving forward from a place that symbolises a painful past without having to completely sever from the good things about it is something that both of them share in canon. without those moments of both being given too many responsibilities and too much independence way too young because they don’t have parents who can ease the transition into adulthood, or this unspoken recognition that even with all their barrio family around both of them are very much on their own in some ways, would they make the deeper emotional connection that makes them work so well together in a more long-term way? or would they just have gone on a few casual dates that didn’t stand out from any other casual dates they might have with others?

and hell, maybe usnavi would’ve already been in a relationship with someone completely different – he’d be working at the store with two other people who were experienced in running it. he’d have so much more time to go out, have a social life, go to clubs and hang out with more people his own age. usnavi after losing his parents became quite disconnected from the larger group of people him and benny would hang out with at school; he doesn’t have the time, he doesn’t have the energy, and for a long time while he’s still so deep in grief i think they find it hard to know how to be friends with this quiet, broken, listless usnavi. they’re all still friendly but internally i think he loses his sense of place with his peers because he’s been rapidly catapulted into a stage of life that none of them are in. an usnavi who doesn’t lose his parents also doesn’t lose his sense of being around the same level and life stage as his peers, so who knows who he meets or develops feelings for?

his relationship with sonny is definitely different. his love and care for him isn’t so full of fear, because he doesn’t feel this need to protect him from every little thing or like it’s his personal responsibility to keep him alive, because it doesn’t really occur to him that he could lose him. canon usnavi i think has a lot more of a somewhat parental vibe, and often an overprotective parent at that. i think this usnavi, because he doesn’t have to grow up so quickly and he isn’t sonny’s boss, has much more of a fun big brother role. and i think sonny in return doesn’t feel so much responsibility for usnavi as he grows up - he doesnt feel like he has to force him to have fun or get some rest or put himself first every so often because usnavi doesnt push himself nearly so relentlessly and because his parents can look out for him when he does.

maybe sonny doesn’t start working in the bodega until much later, either – a lot of why he spends so much time there is because usnavi watches him while his mom’s at work but can’t just close the store. if his parents are there to keep working then usnavi watches sonny at one of their homes, or they go out and do more stuff. the bodega is still important to both of them but it isn’t nearly as much a main setting for sonny’s adolescence as it is in canon.

on that note, since in my version the first thing that makes usnavi hold an instant vendetta against pete is catching pete tagging the store only a few weeks after losing his parents, where his feelings are still so intense and raw. the store hasn’t reopened and so the graffiti feels like someone else making a claim on the only thing he has left of his parents. in this version he’d be annoyed to catch someone tagging the store at most but much quicker to forgive and forget. so in a world where usnavi doesn’t lose his parents, usnavi also doesn’t hate graffiti pete.

if we’re assuming that things did go roughly similar to the point of usnavi being in the club with vanessa on the night of the blackout, here’s the things that would change:

- sonny isn’t the one at the bodega, his parents are, and they’re together so usnavi doesn’t feel the same urgency to get back and check on things there when the power goes out. instead he finds vanessa and walks her home and by the time he’s back at the store, i think his mom would already be with abuela making sure she’s okay, and usnavi would focus on helping his dad make sure everything was safe and secure at the bodega

- he’s also probably still pretty drunk at this point, so there’s a chance that when everything at the store is secured he just goes straight to bed; it’s been a long night, and he’s tired, and he doesn’t have the trauma of past loss making him feel like he personally has to check every little thing himself. he trusts his parents to take care of abuela, it isn’t all on his shoulders. so they don’t have their moment together on the roof.

- whether the store gets looted in this version or not, i don’t think usnavi’s waking up at sunrise to deal with it, but even if he is then he gets up, helps his parents, is upset and annoyed but not in the same visceral, overwhelming way that he is in canon because he doesn’t have all those other long-term anxieties building up in him, he doesn’t have that pressure of his parents legacy tied up in the store when they’re still right there, he doesn’t have that conversation with vanessa where she’s hurt and betrayed that he left her in the blackout and didn’t check up on her. (sidenote this may even mean that vanessa doesn’t move downtown, because if he isnt looking for a way to make things up to her before he leaves then he might not think to speak to dani about co-signing her apartment)

- this means he probably doesn’t get overwhelmed and abandon cleanup to go visit abuela in the morning like he does in canon when we get Hundreds of Stories. he might not even be around, since he tells sonny in canon to get a generator and candles to the church and that’s probably an errand he’d do himself while his parents manned the store. this means he probably does not see abuela that one final time or have that one final meaningful conversation with her before she passes.

final sad note: in a version of events where usnavi never loses his parents, christmas is still his favourite time of year.

#in the heights #usnavi de la vega #fandom: in the heights #long post #good to know that no matter what universe i find a way to make myself so sad about usnavi #Anonymous

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